';^ais^ 


LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 

AT  URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 

From  the  Libraries  of 

SAMUEL  ARTHUR  JONES,  M.D. 

and  his  son, 

PROF.  PAUL  VAN  BRUNT  JONES 

late  of 

the  Dept.  of  History 

University  of  IlHnois 

x823 

D55p 

1838a 

v.l 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2010  witii  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign 


1 

1 

http://www.archive.org/details/posthumouspape<pP1  dicke 


c?S 


U 


V'  O  l^.    1 


Wm.  H.  colxek. 

J^JjGGGXXXVlli 


THE 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS 


THE   PICKWICK   CLUB 


BY    CHARLES    DICKENS. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS, 

BY  R.  SEYMOUR,  PHIZ,  AND  CROWQUILL. 

IN    TWO    VOLUMES. 
VOL.  I. 


NEW-YORK: 
WM.  H.  COLYER,  104  BEEKMAN-STREET. 

1838. 


Ot^f 


PREFACE. 


The  author's  object  in  this  work,  was  to  place  before  the  reader  a 
constant  succession  of  characters  and  incidents  ;  to  paint  them  in  as 
vivid  colours  as  he  could  command  ;  and  to  render  them,  at  the  same 
time  life-like  and  amusing. 

Deferring  to  the  judgment  of  others  in  the  outset  cf  the  undertaking', 
he  adopted  the  machinery  of  the  club,  which  was  suggested  as  ihat 
best  adapted  to  his  purpose  :  but,  finding  that  it  tended  rather  to  his 
embarrasment  than  otherwise,  he  gradually  abandoned  it,  copsidering 
it  a  matter  of  very  little  importance  to  the  work  whether  strictly  epic 
justice  were  awarded  to  the  club,  or  not. 

The  publication  of  the  book  in  monthly  numbers,  containing  only 
thirty-two  pages  in  each,  rendered  it  an  object  of  paramount  importance 
that  while  the  different  incidents  were  linked  together  by  a  chain  of 
interest  strong  enough  to  prevent  their  appearing  unconnected  or  im- 
possible, the  general  design  should  be  so  simple  as  to  sustain  no  injury 
from  this  detached  and  desultory  form  of  publication,  extending  over 
no  fewer  than  twenty  months.  In  short,  it  was  necessary — or  it  ap- 
peared so  to  the  author — that  every  number  should  be.  to  a  certain 
extent,  complete  in  itself,  and  yet  that  the  whole  twenty  numbers, 
when  collected,  should  form  one  tolerably  harmonious  w^hole,  each  lead- 
ing to  the, other  by  a  gentle  and  not  unnatural  progress  of  adventure. 

It  is  obvious  that  in  a  work  published  with  a  view  to  such  considera- 
tions, no  artfully  interwoven  or  ingeniously  complicated  plot  can  with 
reason  be  expected.  The  author  ventures  to  express  a  hope  that  he 
has  successfully  surmounted  the  difficulties  of  his  undertaking.  And 
if  it  be  objected  to  the  Pickwick  Papers,  that  they  are  a  mere  series 
of  adventures,  in  which  the  scenes  are  ever  changing,  and  the  characters 
-come  and  go  like  the  men  and  women  we  encounter  in  the  real  world, 
he  can  only  content  himself  with  the  reflection,  that  they  claim  to  be 
nothing  else,  and  that  the  same  objection  has  been  made  to  the  works 
of  some  of  the  greatest  novelists  in  the  Engli&'h  language. 

The  following  pages  have  been  written  from  time  to  time,  almost  as 
the  periodical  occasion  arose.  Having  been  WTilten  for  the  most  part 
in  the  society  of  a  very  dear  young  fi^end  who  is  now  no  more, 
they  are  connected  in  the  author's  mind  at  once  with  the  happiest 
period  of  his  life,  and  with  its  saddest  and  most  severe  affliction. 

The  almost  unexampled  kindness  and  favour  with  which  these 
papers  have  been  received  by  the  public,  will  be  a  never-failing  source 
of  gratifying  and  pleasant  recollection  while  their  author  lives.  He 
trusts  that,  throughout  this  book,  no  incident  or  expression  occurs 
which  could  call  a  blu.sh  into  the  most  delicate  cheek,  or  wound  the 
feelings  of  the  most  sensitive  person.  If  any  of  his  imperfect  descrip- 
tions, while  they  afford  amusement  in  the  perusal,  should  induce  only 
one  reader  to  think  better  of  his  felluw-men,  and  to  look  upon  the 
brighter  and  more  kindly  side  of  human  nature,  he  would  indeed  tc 
proud  and  happy  to  have  led  to  such  a  result. 


TO 

MR.  SERJEANT  TALFORD,  M.  P. 

ETC.,  ETC. 


My  Deah  Sir, 

If  I  had  not  enjoyed  the  happiness  of  your  private  friendship,  I 
should  still  have  dedicated  this  work  to  you,  as  a  slight  and  most  in- 
adequate acknowledgment  of  the  inestimable  services  you  are  rendering 
to  the  literature  of  your  country,  and  of  the  lasting  benetits  you  will 
confer  upon  the  au,thors  of  this  and  succeeding  generations,  by  securing 
to  them  and  their  descendants  a  permanent  interest  in  the  copyright 
of  their  works. 

Many  a  fevered  bead  and  palsied  hand  will  gather  new  vigour  in  the 
hour  of  sickness  and  distress  from  your  excellent  exertions  ;  many  a 
widowed  mother  and  orphan  child,  who  would  otherwise  reap  nothing 
from  the  frame  of  departed  genias  but  its  too  frequent  legacy  of  poverty 
and  suffering,  will  bear,  in  their  altered  condition,  higher  testimony  to 
the  value  of  your  labours  than  the  most  lavish  encomiums  from  lip  or 
pen  could  ever  aflbrd. 

Beside  such  tributes,  any  avowal  of  feeling  from  me,  on  the  question 
to  which  you  have  devoted  the  combined  advantages  of  your  eloquence, 
character,  and  genius,  would  be  powerless  indeed.  Nevertheless,  in 
thus -publicLy  expressing  my  deep  and  grateful  cense  of  your  efforts  in 
behalf  of  English  literature,  and  of  those  who  devote  themselves  to  the 
most  precarious  of  all  pursuits,  I  do  but  imperfect  justice  to  my  own 
strong  feelings  on  thi  subject,  if  I  do  no  service  to  you. 

These  few  sentences  would  have  comprised  all  I  should  have  had  to 
say,  if  I  had  only  known  you  in  your  public  character.  On  the  score 
of  private  feeling,  let  me  add  one  word  more. 

Accept  the  dedication  of  this  book,  my  dear  sir,  as  a  mark  of  my 
warmest  regard  and  esteem — as  a  memorial  of  the  most  gratifying 
friendship  I  have  ever  contracted,  and  cf  some  of  the  pleasantest  hours 
I  have  ever  spent — as  a  token  of  my  fervent  admiration  of  every  fine 
quality  of  your  head  and  heart — as  an  assurance  of  the  truth  and  sin- 
cerity with  which  I  shall  ever  be, 

My  dear  sir, 
N  M«st  faithfully  and  sincerely  yours, 

Charles' DICKENS. 

48  Doughty-street, 

September  27,  1837. 


CONTENTS 


.THE    FIRST    VOLUME. 


Page. 
Chapter  I. — The  Pickwickians 13 

Chapter  II. — The  first  day's  journpy,  and  the  first  evening's  adventures; 
with  their  consequences 16 

Chapter  III. — A  new  acqaintance — The  Stroller's  Tale — A  disagreeable 
interruption  ;  and  an  unpleasant  rencontre 3o 

Chapter  IV. — A  field  day  and  bivouac — More  new  friends  ;  and  an 
invitation  to  the  country  .         ,         .         .      ' 43 

Chapter  V, — A  s'nort  one — Showing,  among  other  matters,  how  Mr. 
Pickwick  undertook  to  drive,  and  Mr.  Winkle  to  ride  ;  and  how  they  both 
didit        . .         .         .'    51 

Chapter  VI  -»-An  old-fashioned  card  party — The  Clergyman's  verses — 
The  story  of  the  Convict's  return .58 

Chapter  VII. — How  Mr.  Winkle,  instead  of  shooting  at  the  Pigeon  and 
killing  the  Crow,  shot  at  the  Crow  and  wounded  the  Pigeon— How  the 
Dinglcy  Dell  Cricket  Club  played  All  Muggleton,  and  how  All  ^fuggleton 
dined  at  the  Dingley  Dell  expense— With  other  interesting  and  instructive 
matters  69 

Chapter  VIII. — Strongly  illustrative  of  the  position,  that  the  course  of 
true  love  is  not  a  railway 79 

Chapter  IX. — A  discovery  and  a  chase 86 

Chapter  X. — Clearing  up  all  doubt  (if  any  existed)  of  the  disinterested- 
ness of  Mr.  Jingle's  character 94 

Chapter  XI. — Involving  another  journey,  and  an  antiquarian  discovery, 
recording  Mr.  Pickwick's  determination  to  be  present  at  an  election ;  and 
containing  a  manuscript  of  the  old  Clergyman's lO-l 

Chapter  XII. — Descriptive  of  a  very  important  proceeding  on  the  part 
of  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  no  less  an  epoch  in  his  life  than  in  his  history  117 

Chapter  XIII. — Some  account  of  Eatanswill ;  of  the  .state  of  parties 
therein  ;  and  of  the  election  of  a  jnember  to  R.?rve  in  Parliament  for  that 
ancient,  loyal,  and  patriotic  Borough 121 

Chapter  XIV. — Comprising  a  brief  description  of  the  company  at  the 
Peacock  assembled ;  and  a  tale  told  by  a  Bagman        .  •        .     131 


X  CONTENTS. 

Chapter  XV. — In  which  is  given  a  faithful  portraiture  of  two  distin- 
guished persons  ;  and  an  accurate  description  of  a  public  breakfast  In  their 
house  and  grounds :  which  public  breakfast  leads  to  the  recognition  of  an 
old  acquaintance,  and  the  commencement  of  another  chapter         .         .     146 

Chapter  XVI. — Too  full  of  adventures  to  be  briefly  described  156 

Chapter  XVII.— Showing  that  an  attack  of  rheumatism,  in  some  cases, 
acts  as  a  quickener  to  inventive  genius 169 

Chapter  X  VIII, — Briefly  illustrative  of  two  points  : — First,  the  power  of 
hysterics,  and  secondly,  the  force  of  circumstances      .         .         .         ,     175 

CHAPTER'  XIX. — A  pleasant  day,  with  an  unpleasant  termination    .     182 

Chapter  XX. — Showing  how  Dodson  and  Fogg  were  men  of  business, 
and  their  clerks  men  of  pleasure  :  showing  also  what  choice  spirits  assembled 
at  the  Magpie  and  Stump,  and  what  a  capital  chapter  the  next  one  will  be 

192 

Chapter  XXI. — In  which  the  old  man  launches  forth  into  his  favourite 
theme,  and  relates  a  story  about  a  Queer  Client  ....    204 

Chapter  XXII. — Mr.  Pickwick  journeys  to  Ipswich,  and  meets  with  a 
romantic  adventure  with  a  middle-aged  lady  in  yellow  curl  papers        .     216 

Chapter  XXIII. — In  which  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  begins  to  devote  his 
energies  to  the  return  match  between  himself  and  Mr.  Trotter      .         .     227 

Chapter  XXIV. — Wherein  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  grows  jealous,  and  the 
middle-aged  lady  apprehensive,  which  brings  the  Pickwickians  within  the 
grasp  of  the  law 233 

Chapter  XXV. — Showing,  among  a  variety  of  pleasant  matters,  how 
majestic  and  impartial  Mr.  Nupkins  was  ;  and  how  Mr.  Weller  returned  Mr. 
Job  Trotter's  shuttlecock  as  heavily  as  it  came  ;  with  another  matter,  which 
will  be  found  in  its  place 244 

Chapter  XXVI. — -Which  contains  a  brief  account  of  the  progress  of  the 
action  of  Bardell  against  Pickwick        .         .       ' 257 

Chapter  XXVII. — Samuel  Weller  makes  a  pilgrimage  to  Dorking,  and 
beholds  his  mother-in-law ....     262 

Chapter  XXVIII. — A  good-humoured  Christmas  chapter,  containing  an 
account  of  a  wedding,  and  some  other  sports  beside,  which  although  in  their 
way,  even  as  good  customs  as  marriage  itself,  are  not  quite  so  religiously 
kept  up  in  these  degenerate  times 269 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS,   &C. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  PICKWICKIAXS. 


Th2  first  ray  of  light  which  illumines  the  gloom,  and  converts  into 
a  dcizzling  brilliancj  that  obscurity  in  which  the  earher  history  of  the 
pubhc  career  of  fhc  immortal  Pickwick  would  appear  to  be  involved,  is 
derived  from  tlie  perusal  of  the  following  entry  in  the  Transactions  of 
the  Pickwick  Club,  which  the  editor  of  these  papers  feels  the  highest 
pleasure  in  laying  before  his  readers,  as  a  proof  of  the  careful  attention, 
indefatigable  assiduity,  and  nice  discrimination,  with  which  his  search 
among  the  multifarious  documents  confided  to  him  has  been  conducted. 

"May  12,  1817.  Joseph  Smiggers,  Esq.,  P.  V.  P.  M.  P.  C*  pre- 
siding.    The  following  resolutions  unanimously  agreed  to. 

'•  That  this  Association  has  heard  read,  with  feehngs  of  unraingied 
satisfaction,  and  unqualified  approval,  the  paper  communicated  by 
Samutl  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.  C  M.  P.  Ct  entitled  "  Speculations  on 
the  Source  of  the  Hampstead  Ponds,  with  some  Observations  on  the 
Theory  of  Tittlebats;"  and  that  this  Association  does  hereby  return 
its  warmest  thanks  to  the  said  Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.  C.  M.  P.  C, 
for  the  same. 

'« That  while  this  Association  is  deeply  sensible  of  the  advantages 
which  must  accrue  to  the  cause  of  science,  from  the  production  to 
which  they  have  just  adverted,  no  less  than  from  the  unwearied  re- 
searches of  Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.  C.  M.  P.  C,  in  Hornsey,  High- 
gate,  Brixton,  and  CamberAvell ;  they  cannot  but  entertain  a  lively 
sense  of  the  inestimable  benetits  which  must  inevitably  result  frooa 
carrying  the  speculations  of  that  learned  man  into  a  wider  field,  from 
extending  his  travels,  and  consequently  enlarging;  his  sphere  of  obser- 
vation ;  to  the  advancement  of  knowledge,  and  the  diiTusion  of  learning. 

"That  with  the  view  just  mentioned,  this  Association  has  taken 
into  its  serious  consideration  a  proposal,  emanating  from  the  aforesaid 
Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.  C.  M.  P  C,  and  three  other  Pickwickian;;, 
hereinafter  named,  for  forming  a  new  branch  of  United  Pickwickianc, 
under  the  title  of  The  Corresponding  Society  of  the  Pickwick  Club 

"  That  the  said  proposal  has  received  the  sanction  and  approval  of 
this  Association. 

"  That  the  Corresponding  Society  of  the  Pickwick  Ciub  is  there- 
fore hereby  constituted;  and  that  Samuel  Pickwick,  Esq.,  G.  C.  M. 

♦  Perpetual  Vice  President— Member  Pickwick  Club.— Ed. 
t  General  Chairman — Member  Pickwick  Club. — Ed. 
Vol.  I.— 2 


1)  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  07 

i*.  C,  Tracy  Tupman,  Esq.,  M.  P.  C,  Augustus  Snodgrass,  Esq., 
M.  P.  C,,  and  Mathaniel  Winkle,  Esq.,  M.  P.  C,  are  hereby  nominated 
and  appointed  members  of  the  same  ;  and  that  they  be  requested  to 
forward,  from  time  to  time,  authenticated  accounts  of  their  journeys 
and  investigations  :  of  their  observations  of  character  and  manners  ; 
and  of  the  whole  of  their  adventures,  together  with  all  tales  and  papers 
to  which  local  scenery  or  associations  may  give  rise,  to  the  Pickwick 
Club,  stationed  in  London. 

"That  this  Association  cordially  recognises  the  principle  of  every 
member  of  the  Corresponding  Society  defraying  his  own  travelling 
expenses  ;  and  that  it  sees  no  objection  whatever  to  the  members  of 
the  said  society  pursuing  their  inquiries  for  any  length  of  time  they 
please,  upon  the  same  terms. 

"  That  the  members  of  the  aforesaid  Corresponding  Society,  be,  and 
are  hereby  informed,  that  their  proposal  to  pay  the  postage  of  their 
letters,  and  the  carriage  of  their  parcels,  hag  been  deliberated  upon  by 
this  Association.  That  this  Association  considers  such  proposal 
worthy  of  the  great  minds  from  v^-hich  it  emanated  ;  and  that  it  hereby 
signifies  its  perfect  acquiescence  therein." 

A  casual  observer,  adds  the  secretary,  to  whose  notes  we  afe  indebted 
for  the  following  account — a  casual  observer  might  possibly  have 
remarked  nothing  extraordinary  in  the  bald  head,  and  circular  specta- 
cles, which  were  intently  turned  towards  his  (the  secretary's)  face, 
during  the  reading  of  the  above  resolutions.  To  those  who  knew  that 
the  giganlic  brain  of  Pickwick  was  working  beneath  that  forehead,  and 
that  the  beaming  eyes  of  Pickw'ick  were  twinkling  behind  those  glasses, 
the  sight  was  indeed  an  interesting  one.  There  sat  the  man  who  had 
traced  to  their  source  the  mighty  ponds  of  Hampstead,  and  agitated 
the  scientific  world  with  his  Theory  of  Tittlebats,  as  calm  and  un- 
moved as  the  deep  waters  of  the  one  on  a  frosty  day,  or  as  a  solitary 
specimen  of  the  other  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  an  earthen  jar.  And 
how  much  more  interesting  did  the  spectacle  become,  when,  starting 
into  full  life  and  animation,  as  a  simultaneous  call  for  "  Pickwick" 
burst  froi.'»  his  followers,  that  illustrious  man  slowly  mounted  into  the 
Winds^or  chair,  on  which  he  had  been  previously  seated,  and  addressed 
the  club  himself  had  founded.  What  a  study  for  an  artist  did  that 
exciting  scene  present  !  The  eloquent  Pickwick,  with  one  hand 
gracefully  concealed  behind  his  coat  tails,  and  the  other  waving  in  air 
to  assist  his  glowing  declamation  :  his  elevated  position  revealing  those 
tights  and  gaiters,  which,  had  they  clothed  an  ordinary  man,  might  have 
passed  without  observation,  but  which,  when  Pickwick  clothed  them — 
if  we  may  use  the  expression — inspired  involuntary  awe  and  respect ; 
surrounded  by  the  men  who  had  volunteered  to  share  the  perils  of  his 
travels,  and  who  were  destined  to  participate  in  the  glories  of  his  dis- 
coveries. On  his  right  hand,  sat  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  ;  the  too  sus- 
ceptible Tupman,  who  to  the  wisdom  and  experience  of  maturer  years 
superadded  the  enthusiasm  and  ardour  of  a  boy,  in  the  most  interesting 
and  pardonable  of  human  weaknesses — love.  Time  and  feeding  had 
expanded  that  once  romantic  form,  the  black  silk  waistcoat  had  become 
more  and  moie  developed  ;  inch  by  inch  had  the  gold  watch-chain 
beneath  it  dis^appeared  from  within  the  range  of  Tupman's  vision  ;  and 
gradually  had  the  capacious  chin  encroached  upon  the  borders  of  the 
white  cravat,  but  the  soul  of  Tupman  had  known  no  change — admira- 
tion of  the  fair  sex  was  still  its  ruling  passion.     On  the  left  of  his  great 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  15 

leader  sat  the  poetic  Snodgrass,  and  near  him  again  the  sporting  Winkle, 
the  former  poetically  enveloped  in  a  mysterious  blue  cloak  with  a  canine 
skin  collar,  and  the  latter  communicating  additional  lustre  to  a  new 
green  shooting  coat,  plaid  neckerchief,  and  closely  fitted  drabs. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  oration  upon  this  occasion,  together  with  the  debate 
thereon,  is  entered  on  the  Transactions  of  the  Club.  Both  bear  a 
strong  affinity  to  the  discussions  of  other  celebrated  bodies  ;  and,  as  it 
is  always  interesting  to  trace  ,a  resemblance  between  the  proceedings  of 
great  men,  we  transfer  the  entry  to  these  pages. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick  observed  (says  the  Secretary)  that  fame  was  dear  to 
the  heart  of  every  man.  Poetic  fame  was  dear  to  the  heart  of  his 
frienJ  Snodgrass,  the  fame  of  conquest  was  equally  dear  to  his  friend 
Tupman  ;  and  the  desire  of  earning  fame,  in  the  sports  of  the  field,  the 
air,  and  the  water,  was  uppermost  in  the  breast  of  his  friend  Winkle. 
He  (Mr.  Pickwick)  would  not  deny,  that  he  was  influenced  by  human 
passions,  and  human  feelings,  (cheers)— possibly  by  human  weaknesses 
(loud  cries  of  "  No  ;'")  but  this  he  would  say,  that  if  ever  the  fire  of 
self-importance  broke  out  in  his  bosom,  the  desire  to  benefit  the  human 
race  in  preference  effectually  quenched  it.  The  praise  of  mankind 
was  his  suing  ;  philanthropy  was  his  insurance  office.  (Vehement 
cheering.)  He  had  felt  some  pride — he  acknowledged  it  freely  ;  and 
let  his  enemies  make  the  most  of  it — he  had  fell  some  pride  when  he 
presented  his  Tittlebatian  Theory  to  the  ^vorld  ;  it  might  be  celebrated 
or  it  might  not.  (A  cr>"  of  "  It  is,"  and  great  cheering.)  He  would 
take  the  assertion  of  that  honourable  Pickwickian  whose  voice  he  had 
just  heard — it  was  celebrated  ;  but  if  the  fame  of  that  treatise  were  to 
extend  to  the  farthest  confines  of  the  known  world,  the  pride  with 
which  he  should  reflect  on  the  authorship  of  that  production,  would  be 
as  nothing  compared  with  the  pride  with  which  he  looked  around  him, 
on  this,  the  proudest  moment  of  his  existence.  (Cheers.)  He  was  an 
humble  individual.  (No,  no.)  Still  he  could  not  but  feel  that  they 
had  selected  him  for  a  service  of  great  honor,  and  of  some  danger. 
Travelling  was  in  a  troubled  state,  and  the  minds  of  coachmen  were 
unsettled.  Let  them  look  abroad,  and  contemplate  the  scenes  which 
were  enacting  around  them.  Stage  coaches  were  upsetting  in  all 
directi.>ns^  horses  were  bolting,  boats  were  overturning,  and  boilers 
were  bursting.  (Cheers — a  voice  "No.")  No  I  (Cheers.)  Let  that 
honourubh;  Pickwickian  who  cried  *'  No"  so  loudly,  come  forward  and 
deny  it,  if  he  could.  (Cheers.)  Who  was  it  that  cried  "  No  V  (En- 
thusiastic cheering.)  Was  it  some  vain  and  disappointed  man — ho 
would  not  say  haberdasher — (loud  cheers) — who,  jealous  of  the  praise 
which  had  been — perhaps  undeservedly — bestowed  on  his  (Mr.  Pick- 
wick's) researches,  and  smarting  under  the  censure  which  had  been 
heaped  upon  his  own  feeble  attempts  at  rivalry,  now  took  this  vile  and 
calumnious  mode  of 

"  Mr.  Bt.uTTON,  (of  Aldgate,)  ra^e  to  order.  Did  the  honourable 
Pickwickian  allude  to  him!  (Cries  of  "Order,"  "Chair,''  "  Ves,** 
"  No,"  "  Go  on,"  "  Leave  otf,"  &c.) 

"  .Mr.  PicKwicK  would  not  put  up  to  be  put  down  by  clamour.  He 
had  alluded  to  the  honourable  gentleman.     (Cireat  excitement.) 

"  Mr.  Blotto.n  would  only  say  then,  that  he  repelled  the  hon.  gent's, 
false  and  scurrilous  accusation,  with  profound  contempt.  (Great  cheer- 
ing.) The  hon.  gent,  was  a  humbug.  (Immense  confusion,  and  loud 
cries  of"  chair"  and  "  order.'') 


16  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"Mr.  A.  SxonopAss  rosp  to  order.  He  threw  himself  upon  the 
Chair.  (Hear.)  He  wished  to  know,  whether  this  di.sgraccful  contest 
between  two  members  of  that  club  should  be  allowed  to  continue. 
(Hear,  hear.) 

•'  The  CllA^p.M^N  was  quite  sure  the  hon.  Pickwickian  would  with- 
draw the  expression  he  had  just  made  use  of. 

".Mr.  Blottov,  with  all  •,^ossiblc  respect  for  the  chair  was  quite 
sure  he  woujd  not. 

'*  I  he  CuAiRM.\N  felt  it  his  imperative  duty  to  demand  of  the  honour- 
able gentleman,  wheihef  he  had  used  the  expression  which  had  just 
escaped  liim,  in  a  common  sense. 

•'  Mr.  Blotton  had  no  he.sitation  in  sayintr,  that  he  had  not — he  had 
used  the  word  in  its  Pickv.ickian  sense.  (Hear,  hear.)  He  was  bound 
toackno'.vledtje,  that,  personally,  he  entertained  the  highest  regard  and 
esteem  for  the  honourable  gentleman  :  he  had  merely  considered  him 
a  humbug  in  a  Pickwickian  point  of  view.     (Hear,  hear.) 

♦'  Mr.  Pickwick  felt  much  gratified  by  the  fair,  candid,  and  full  ex- 
planation of  his  honourable  friend.  lie  begged  it  to  be  at  once  under- 
stood, that  his  own  observations  had  been  merely  intended  to  bear  a 
Pickwickian  constniction.     (Cheers.)" 

Here  the  entry  terminates,  as  we  have  no  doubt  the  debate  did  also, 
after  arriving  at  such  a  highly  satisfactory  and  intelligible  point.  Wo 
have  no  otntnal  statement  of  the  facts.  v;hich  the  reader  will  find 
recorded  in  the  next  chapter,  but  they  have  been  carefully  collated  frona 
letters  and  other  MS.  authorities,  so  unquestionably  genuine,  as  to 
justify  their  narration  in  a  connected  form. 


CHAPTER  H. 

THE    FIRST    day's    JOURXEV,    AND    THE     FIRST     EVEMXQ's     ADVENTURES  ; 
WITH    THEIR    CONSEQUENCES. 

That  punctual  servant  of  all  work  the  sun,  had  just  risen,  and 
began  to  strike  a  light  on  the  morning  of  the  thirteenth  of  May,  ono 
thousand  eiirht  hundred  and  twenty-seven,  when  Mr.  Samuel  Pick- 
wick burst  like  another  sun  from  his  slumbers  ;  threw  open  his  cham- 
ber window,  and  looked  out  upon  the  world  bent  ath.  Goswell  street 
was  at  his  feet ;  Goswell  street  was  on  his  riorht  hand  ;  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  reach,  Goswell  street  extended  on  his  left;  and  the  opposite 
side  of  Goswell  street  was  over  the  way.  "  Such,"  thought  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, "are  the  narrow  views  of  those  philosophers  who,  content  with 
examining  the  things  that  lie  before  them,  look  not  to  the  truths  which 
are  bidden  beyond.  As  well  mii^ht  I  be  content  to  gaze  on  Goswell 
street  for  ever,  without  one  effort  to  penetrate  to  the  hidden  countries 
which  on  every  side  surround  it."  And  having  given  vent  to  this 
beautiful  reflection,  Mr.  Pickwick  proceeded  to  put  him.self  into  hi» 
clothes  :  and  his  clothes  into  his  portmanteau.  Great  men  are  seldom 
over  scrupulous  in  the  arrangement  of  their  attire  :  the  operation  of 
•having,  dressing,  and  coflee^imhibing,  was  soon  performed  :  and,  in 
ooother  hour,  Mr.   Pickwick,  with  his  portmanteau  in  his  hand,  Hi 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  17 

t«}e«cope  in  his  great  coat  pocket,  and  his  note  book  in  his  waistcoat, 
ready  for  the  reception  of  any  discoveries  worthy  of  being  noted 
down,  had  arrived  at  the  coach-sland  in  Saint  MartinVle-Grand. 

"Cab  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Here  you  are,  sir,"  shouted  a  strange  specimen  of  the  human  rac*, 
in  a  sackcloth  coat,  and  apron  of  the  same,  who.  with  a  brass  label  and 
number  round  his  neck,  looked  as  if  he  were  catalogued  in  some  col- 
lection of  rarities.  This  was  the  waterman,  ^'  Htere  you  are,  sir. 
Now,  then,  fust  cab  I"  And  the  first  cab  having  been  fetched  from  the 
public  house,  where  he  had  been  smoking  his  first  pipe,  Mr.  Pickwick 
and  his  portmanteau  were  thrown  into  the  vehicle. 

••Golden  Cross,"  said  .Mr.  Pickwick. 

'•Only  a  bob's  vorth,  Tommy,"  cried  the  driver,  sulkily,  for  the 
information  of  his  friend  the  waterman,  as  the  cab  drove  off 

•'  How  old  is  thai  horse,  my  friend  ]"  inquired  .Mr.  Pickwick,  rubbing 
hi<  nose  with  the  shilling  he  had  reserved  for  the  fare. 

'•  Forty-two,"  replied  the  driver',  eying  him  askant. 

♦*  What!*^  ejaculated  .Mr.  Pickwick,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  note- 
hook.  The  driver  reiterated  his  former  statement.  Mr.  Pickwick 
Jooked  very  hard  at  the  man's  face,  bi;t  his  features  were  immoveable, 
#o  he  noted  down  the  fact  forthwith. 

'■'And  how  long  do  you  ke^  him  out  at  a  time  1"  inquired  Mr- 
Pickwick,  searching  for  farther  information. 

♦'  Two  or  three  veeks,"  replied  the  man. 

"Weeks  1"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  in  astonishment — and  out  came  the 
note-book  again. 

'*  He  lives  at  Pentonwil  when  he's  at  home,"  observed  the  driver, 
coolly  :  "  but  v/e  seldom  takes  him  home,  on  account  of  his  veakness." 

"On  accountof  his  weakness!"  reUeraled  the  perplexed  .Mr.  Pickwick. 

"He  always  falls  down,  when  he's  took  out  o'  the  cab,"  continued 
the  driver,  "  but  when  he's  in  it,  we  bears  him  up  werry  tight,  and 
takes  him  in  werry  short,  so  he  can't  werry  well  fall  down,  and  we've 
got  a  padr  o'  precious  large  wheels  on  ;  so  when  he  docs  move,  they 
run  after  him,  and  he  must  go  on  :  he  can't  help  it." 

Mr  Pickwick  entered  every  word  of  this  statement  in  his  note-book, 
with  the  view  o/  communicating  it  to  the  club,  as  a  singular  instance 
of  the  tenacity  of  life  in  horses,  under  trying  circumstances.  The  en- 
try was  scarcely  completod  when  they  reached  the  Golden  Cross.  Down 
jumped  the  driver,  and  out  got  NIr.  Pickwick.  Mr  Tupman,  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  and  Mr.  Winkle,  who  ha<}  been  anxiou:!y  waiting  the  arri- 
val of  their  illustrious  leader,  crowded  to  welcome  him. 

'^Here's  y«ur  fare,"  said  Mr,  Pickwick,  holding  out  the  shilling  to 
the  driver. 

What  was  the  learned  man's  astonishment,  when  that  unaccountable 
person  flung  the  money  on  the  pavement,  and  reque.'^tetl  in  figurative 
ttrms  to  be  allowed  the  pleasure  o{  fighting  him  (.Mr.  Pickwick,)  fur  the 
amount ! 

"  You  are  mad,"'  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Or  drunk,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"Or  both,''  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"Come  on,"  said  the  cab-driver,  sparring  away  like  clock-work. 
"Come  on,  all  four  on  you.'' 

"Here's  a  lark  I"  shouted  half-a-dozen  hackney  coachmen.  "Go 
to  work,  Sam,"  and  they  crowded  with  great  gl«e  around  the  party. 

2* 


18  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

" Wliat's  tlie  row,  Sam?"  inquired  one  gentleman  in  black  caliex> 
sieeves. 

"  Row  !"  replieJ  the  cabman  ;  "  what  did  he  want  my  number  fori" 

"  I  didn't  want  your  number,"  said  llie  astonished  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"What  did  vou  take  it  lor  then?"  inquired  the  cabman. 

*'  I  didn't  take  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  indignantly. 

"  Would  any  body  believe,"  continued  the  cab-drrver,  appealinjr  to 
the  crowd  ;  "  would  any  body  believe  as  an  informer  'ud  j^o  about  in  a 
man's  cab.  not  only  takjn'  down  his  number,  but  ev'ry  word  he  says  into 
the  bargain,"  (a  light  flashed  upon  Mr  Pickwick — it  was  the  note-book.) 

"  Did  he,  though  ?"  inquired  another  cabman. 

"  Yes,  did  he,"  replied  the  first;  "and  then  arter  aggcrawatin'  me 
to  assault  him,  gels  three  witnesses  here  to  prove  it.  But  I'l)  give  it 
him,  if  I've  six  months  for  it.  Come  on,"  and  the  cabman  dashed  his 
hat  upon  the  ground,  with  a  reckless  disregard  of  his  own  private  pro- 
perty, and  knocked  Mr.  Pickwick's  spectacles  off",  and  followed  up  the 
attack  with  a  blow  on  Mr.  Pickwick'.s  nose,  and  another  on  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's chest,  and  a  tliird  in  Mr.  Snodgrass's  eye,  and  a  fourth,  by  way 
of  variety,  in  Mr.  Tupman's  waistcoat,  and  then  danced  into  the  road, 
and  then  back  ajiain  to  the  pavement,  and  finally  dashed  the  whole 
temporary  supply  of  breath  out  of  Mr.  W^inkle's  body  ;  and  all  in  a 
half-a-dozen  seconds.     - 

"Where's  an  otlicer?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Put  'cm  under  the  pump  !"  sutrgesicd  a  hut  pie-man. 

"  You  shall  smart  for  this,"  gasped  Mr.  Pickwick.  • 

"  Informers,"  shouted  the  crowd. 

"  Come  on,"  crietl  the  cabman,  who  had  been  sparring  without  ces- 
sation the  whole  t'lme. 

The  mob  had  hitherto  been  passive  spectators  of  the  scene,  but  as 
the  intelligence  of  the  Pickwickians  being  informers  was  spread  among 
them,  they  began  to  canvass  with  consiilerable  vivacity  the  propriety 
of  enforcing  the  heated  pastry  vender's  proposition  :  and  there  is  no 
saying  what  acts  of  personal  aggression  they  n>ight  have  comuiittcd, 
had  not  the  alFray  been  unexpectedly  terminated  by  the  interposition 
of  anew  comer. 

"What's  the  fun?"  said  a  rather  tall  thin  young  man,  in  a  green 
coat,  emerging  suddenly  from  the  coach-yard. 

''  Informers  !"  shouted  the  crowd  again. 

"  W^e  are  not,"  roared  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  tone  which,  to  any  dispas- 
sionate listener,  carried  canviction  with  it. 

"Ain't  you  though  ;  ain't  you?"  said  the  young  man,  appealing  to 
Mr.  Pickwick,  and  making  his  way  through  the  crowd,  by  the  infalli- 
ble process  bf  elbowing  the  countenances  of  its  component  meml)er.s. 

Tl'.at  learned  man,  in  a  few  hurried  words,  explained  the  real  state 
of  the  case. 

*'Come  along  then,"  said  he  of  the  green  coat,  lugging  Mr.  Pickwick 
after  him  by  main  force,  and  ,talkin<j  the  whole  way.  "  Here,  No-. 
924,  take  your  fare,  and  take  yourself  off — respectable  gentleman — 
know  him  well — none  of  your  nonsense — this  way,  sir — where's  your 
friends  ? — all  a  mistake,  I  see — never  mind — accidents  will  happen  in 
best  regulated  faniilies — never  Sr.y  die — down  upon  your  luck— pull 
him  up — put  that  in  his  pipe — like  the  flavour — great  rascals."  And» 
•with  a  lengthened  string  of  similar  broken  sentences,  delivered  with 
eitraordinaiy  volubility,  the  stranger  led  the  way  to  the  traveller'* 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  ^     "  19 

«vaiting-room,  whither  he  was  closely  followed  by  ilr.  Pickwick  an^ 
his  disciples. 

"  Here,  waiter,"  shouted  the  stranfer,  rinrring  the  bell  with  tre- 
mendous violence,  "glasses  round — brandy  and  water,  hot  and  strong, 
and  sweet  and  plenty — eye  damaged,  sir  ■  Waiter  ;  raw  beafsteak  (or 
the  gentleman's  eye — nothing  like  raw  beafsteak  for  a  bruise,  sir;  cold 

lamp-post  very  <roud,  but  lamp-po.st  inconvenient — d d  odd  standing 

in  the  open  street  half  an  hour,  v,ith  your  eye  against  a  lauip  post — 
eh — very  good — ha  I  ha!"'  And  the  stranger,  without  stopping  to 
take  breath,  swallowed  at  a  draught  full  half  a  pint  of  the  reekinjf 
brandy  and  water,  and  flung  him-jelf  into  a  chair  with  as  much  ease  as 
if  notliing  uncommon  had  occurred. 

Whilst  his  three  companions  were  busily  engaged  in  proffering  their 
thanks  to  their  new  acquaintance,  Mr.  Pickwick  had  leisure  to  examine 
his  costume  and  appearance. 

He  was  about  ihe  middle  height ;  but  the  thinness  of  his  body,  and 
the  length  of  his  legs,  gave  him  the  appearance  of  being  much  taller. 
The  green  coat  had  been  a  smart  dress  garment  in  the  days  of  swallow- 
tails, but  had  evidently  in  those  tiraes  adorned  a  much  shorter  mau 
than  the  stranger,  for  the  soiled  and  faded  sleeves  scarcely  reached  lo 
his  wrists.  It  was  buttoned  closely  up  to  his  cliin,  at  the  imminent 
hazard  of  splitting  the  back:  and  an  old  stock,  without  a  vestige  of 
shirt  collar,  ornamented  his  neck.  His  scanty  black  trousers  displayed 
here  and  there  those  shiny  patches  which  bespeak  long  service,  and 
were  strapped  very  tightly  over  a  pair  of  patched  and  mended  shoes,  as 
if  to  conceal  the  dirty  white  stockings,  which  were,  nevertheless,  dis- 
tinctly visible.  His  long  black  -hair  escaped  in  negligent  waves  from 
beneath  each  side  of  his  old  pinched-up  hat ;  and  glimpses  of  his  bare 
wrist  might  be  observed  between  ths  tops  of  his  gloves,  and  the  culVi 
of  his  coat  sleeves.  His  facg  was  thin  and  haggard;  but  an  indescri- 
bable air  of  jaunty  impudence  and  perfect  6elf-pi)Sse3sion  pervaded  tho 
whole  man. 

Such  was  the  individual,  on  whom  Mr.  Pickwick  gazed  through  his 
spectacles,  (which  he  had  fortunately  recovered,)  and  to  whom  ha 
proceeded,  when  his  friends  had  exhausted  themselves,  to  return,  iu 
chosen  terms,  his  warmest  thanks  for  his  recent  assistance. 

"Never  mind,*'  said  the  stran^rer,  cuttintj  the  address  very  short, 
"  said  enough — no  more  ;  smart  chap,  that  cabman  ;  handled  his  fives 
well :  but  if  I'd  been  your  friend  in  the  green  jeuuuy,  d — n  me,  punch 
his  head — cod  I  would  ;  'pig's  whisper — pieman  loo — no  gammon." 

This  coherent  speech  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  Ro- 
chester coachman,  to  announce  that  "  The  Commodore"  was  on  the 
point  of  starting. 

"  Commodore  I"  said  the  stranger,  starting  up,  ''my  coach — place 
booked — one  outside  ;  leavn  you  to  pay  for  the  brandy  aiuJ  water:  want 
change  for  .1  live; -bad  silver;  Bruinniairefa  buttons — won't  do — no 
go,  eh!"  and  he  shook  his  head  most  knowingly. 

Now  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  three  companions  had 
resolved  to  make  Rochester  their  first  halting-place  too ;  and  having 
intimated  to  their  new-foiuid  acquaintance  that  they  were  journeying 
to  the  same  city,  they  aL'rced  to  occupy  the  seat  at  the  back  of  the  coach, 
where  they  could  all  sit  together. 

*'  Up  with  you,"  said  the  stranger,  assisting  Mr.  Pickwick  on  to  th« 


so  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

roof  with  so  much  precipitation,  as  to  impair  the  gravity  of  that  gen- 
tleman's  deportment  very  materially. 

•'  Any  luggage,  sirV  inquifcd  the  coachman. 

"  Who,  1 1  Brown  paper  parcel  here,  that's  all,  other  luggage  gone 
by  water ;  packing-cases,  nailed  up  ;  big  as  houses ;  heavy,  heavy, 
heavy,"  replied  the  stranger,  as  he  forced  into  his  pocket  as  much  at; 
he  could  of  the  brown  paper  parcel,  which  presented  most  suspicious 
indications  of  containing  one  shirt  and  a  handkerchief 

"  Heads,  heads,  take  care  of  your  heads,"  cried  the  loquacious 
stranger,  as  they  came  out  undo.*  the  low  archway,  which  in  those 
days  formed  the  entrance  to  the  coach-yard.  *'  Terrible  place-^-dan. 
gerous  work  ;  other  day,  ftve  children — mother — tall  lady,  eating  sand^ 
wiches — forgot  the  arch — crash,  knock — children  look  round,  mother's 
head  off — sandwich  in  her  hand— *no  mouth  to  put  it  in — head  of  a. 
family  off;  shocking,  shocking.  Looking  at  Whitehall,  sir — tine  place 
— little  window — somebody  else's  head  off  there,  eh,  sir!  he  didn't 
keep  a  sharp  look-out  enough  either — eh,  sir,  eh  1" 

"  I  was  ruminating,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  on  the  strange  mutability 
of  human  affairs." 

"Ah!  I  secy  in  at  the  palace  door  one  duy-j  out  at  the  window  the 
next.     Philosopher,  sir  1" 

"  An  observer  of  human  nature,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Ah,  so  am  I.  Most  people  are  when  theyWe  little  to  do  and  less 
to  get.     Poet,  sir  V 

*'  My  friend  Mr.^  Snodgrass  has  a  strong  poetic  turn,"  said  Mr.  Pick' 
vick. 

"  So  have  I,"  said  the  stranger.  "  Epic  poem,  ten  thousand  lines — 
revolution  of  July ,;  composed  it  on  the  spot ;  Mars  by  day,  Apollo  by 
night— bang  the  field-piece,  twang  the  lyre." 

"You  were  present  at  that  glorious  scene,  sir!"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Present !  think  I  was  ;  fired  a  musket — fired  with  an  idea — rushed 
into  wine  shop-;— wrote  it  down^^back again — whiz,  bang;  another  idea 
— wine  shop  again — pen  and  ink — -back  again — cut  and  slash — noble 
time,  sir.     Sportsman,  sir!"  abruptly  turning  to  Mr,  Winkle. 

*♦  A  little,  .sir,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

"Fine  pursuit,  six  ;  fine  pursuit.     Dogs,  sir!" 

*' Not  just  now,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Ah  !  you  should  keep  dogs  ;  fine  animals-^-sagacious  creatures — • 
dog  of  my  own  once — Pointer — surprising  instinct ;  out  shooting  one 
day — entering  enclosure — whistled^-dog  stopped — whistled  again — 
Ponto — no  gD  ;  stock  still— called  him — Ponto,  Ponto  :  wouldn't  move 
— dog  transfixed,  staring  at  a  board  ;  looked  up  saw  an  inscription, 
*  Gamekeeper  has  orders  to  shoot  all  dogs  found  in  this  enclosure  ;' 
wouldn't  pass  it — wotiderful  dog — valuable  dog  that,  very." 

"  Singular  circumstance  that,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Will  you  allow 
me  to  make  a  note  of  it  1"* 

"Certainly,  sir,  certainly  ;  hundred  more  anecdotes  of  the  same  ani- 
mal. Fine  girl,  sir,"  (to  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman,  who  had  been  bestowing 
sundry  anti-Pickwickian  glances  on  a  young  lady  by  the  road-side.) 

*  Although  we  find  thi!%  circumstance  recorded  as  a  "  singular"  one,  in 
Mr.  Pickwick's  note-book,  we  cannot  refrain  from  huml)ly  expressing  our 
dissent  from  that  learned  authority.  The  stranger's  anecdote  is  not  one 
quarter  so  wonderfid  as  some  of  Mr.  Jesse's  "Gleanings."  Ponto  sink.s 
ialj  utter  insignificance  Vforc  the  dogs  whose  actions  he  records. — Ep- 


# 


THE  PICK'A'ICK  CLUB.  21 

**  Very  !"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  English  girls  not  so  tine  as  Spanish  ;  noble  creatures — jet  hair — > 
black  eyes — lovely  forms — sweet  creatures — heautiful."  * 

"You  have  been  in  Spain,  sir  !"  said  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman. 

"  Lived  there — ages." 

"  Many  conquests,  sirl"  'inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Conquests  !  Thousands.  Don  Bolaro  Fizzgig — Grandee — only 
daughter,  Donna  Christina — splendid  creature — loved  me  to  distraction 
— jealous  father — high-souled  daughter — handsome  Englishman — 
Donna  Christina,in  despair — prussic  acid — stomach  pump  in  my  port- 
manteau— operation  performed — old  Bolaro  in  ecstasies — consent  tu 
our  union — join  hands,  and  floods  of  tears  ;   romantic  story,  very." 

"  Is  the  lady  in  England  nov/,  sir  !"  inquired  .Mr.  Tupman,  on  whom 
the  description  of  her  charms  had  produced  a  powerful  impression. 

"  Dead,  sir^  dead,"  said  the  stranger,  applying  to  his  right  eye  tho 
brief  re.mnant  of  a  very  old  cambric  handkerchief.  •'  iVever  recovered 
the  stomach  pump  ;  undermined  constitution  ;  fell  a  victim." 

"And  her  father!"  inquired  the  poetic  Snodgrass. 

'*  Kemorse  and  misery,"  replied  the  stranger.  "  Sudden  disappear- 
ance—talk of  the  whole  city  ;  search  maJe  every  where,  without  suc- 
ces ;  public  fountain  in  the  great  square  suddenly,  ceased  playing — 
weeks  elapsed,  still  a  stoppage — workmen  employed  to  clean  it — water 
drawn  off — father-in-law  discovered  slicking  head  first  in  the  main  pipe, 
with  a  full  confession  in  his  right  boot — took  him  out,  and  the  fountain 
played  away  again,  as  well  as  ever." 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  note  that  little  romance  down,  sir  1"  said  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  deeply  affected. 

"  Certainly,  sir,  certainly  ;  fifty  more,  if  you  like  to  hear  'em  :  strange 
life  mine — rather  curious  history — not  extraordinary,  but  singular." 

In  this  strain,  with  an  occasional  glass  of  ale,, by  way  of  parenthesis, 
when  the  coach  changed  horses,  did  the  stranger  proceed,  until  they 
reached  Rochester  bridge,  by  which  time  ^^lie  note-books,  both  of  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  were  completely  filled  with  selections 
from  his  adventures. 

'"  Magnificent  ruin,"  said  Mr.  Augustus  Snodgrass  with  all  the  poetic 
fervour  that  distinguished  him,  when  they  came  in  sight  of  the  fine  old 
dastle. 

"  What  a  study  for  an  antiquarian  !"  were  the  very  words  which  fell 
from  Mr.  Pickwick's  mouth,  a.s  he  applied  his  telesct-pe  to  his  eyes. 

"Ah  !  fine  place,"  said  the  stranger,  "glorious  pile — frowning  walls 
— tottering  arches — dark  nooks — crumbling  staircases;  old  cathedral 
too — earthy  smell — pilgrims"  feet  \Vorn  away  the  old  steps — little  So.tou 
doors — confessionals  like  money-takers'  bo.xes  at  theatres — qr.eer  cus- 
tomers, those  monks — popes,  and  lord  treasurers,  and  all  sorts  of  old 
fellows,  with  great  reil  faces,  and  broken  noses,  turning  up  every  day — 
buff  jerkins  too — match  locks — Sarcophagus — fine  place — old  legends 
too — strange  stories — capital  ;"  and  the  stranger  continued  to 
soliloquize  until  they  reached  the  Bull  Inn,  in  the  high  street,  where 
the  coach  stopped. 

"Do  you  remain  here,  sirl"  inquired  Mr.  Nathaniel  Winkle. 

"Here — not  I  ;  but  you'd  better:  good  house — nice  beds — Wright's, 
next  house, — dear — very  dear — half  a  crown  in  tbe  bill,  if  you  look^it 
the  waiter — charge  you  more  if  you  dine  at  a  friend's  than  they  would 
if  you  dined  in  the  coffce-ruora  ;  rum  fellows — very.'' 


2Z  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS  OF 

Mr.  Winkle  turned  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  murmured,  a  few  words  ;  a 
whisper  from  Mr.  Pickwick  to  Mr.  Snodgrass,  from  Mr.  Snodgras  to 
Mr.  Tupman,  and  nods  of  assent  were  exchanged.  Mr.  Pickwick  ad- 
dressed the  stranper. 

"  You  rendered  us  a  very  important  service  this  morning,  sir,"  said 
he ;  "will  you  allow  us  to  ollfer  a  slight  mark  of  our  gratitude  by  beg- 
ging the  favour  of  your  company  at  dinner  !" 

"  Great  pleasure — not  presume  to  dictate,  but  broiled  fowl  and  mush- 
rooms— capital  thing  !     What  time  1" 

"Let  me  see,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  referring  to  his  watch,  "it  is 
now  nearly  three.     Shall  we  say  five?' 

''  Suit  me  excellently,"  said  the  stranger,  "  five  precisely — till  then 
— care  of  yourselves  ;"  and  lifting  the  pinched-up  hat  a  few  inches  from 
his  head,  and  carelessly  replacing  it  very  much  on  one  side,  the  stranger, 
with  half  the  brown  paper  parcel  sticking  out  of  his  pocket,  walked 
briskly  up  the  yard,  and  turned  into  the  high  street. 

"  Evidently  a  traveller  in  many  countries,  and  a  close  obser%'er  of 
men  and  things,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  his  poem,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  seen  that  dog,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

Mr.  Tupman  said  nothing;  but  he  thought  of  Donna  Christina,  the 
stomach  pump,  and  the  fountain  ;  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

A  private  sitting-room  having  been  engaged,  bed-rooms  inspected, 
and  dinner  ordered,  the  party  walked -out  to  view  the  city,  and  adjoin- 
ing neighbourhood. 

We  do  not  find,  from  a  careful  perusal  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  notes  on 
the  four  towns,  Stroud,  Rochester.  Chatham,  and  Brompton,  that  his 
impressions  of  their  appearance  differ  in  any  material  point  from  those 
of  other  travellers  who  have  gone  over  the  same  ground.  His  general 
de."5cription  is  easily  abridged. 

"  The  principal  productions  of  these  towns,"  says  Mr.  Pickwick, 
"  appear  to  be  soldiers,  sailors,  Jews,  chalk,  shrimps,  officers,  and  dock- 
yard men.  The  commodities  chiefly  exposed  for  sale  in  the  public 
streets,  are  marine  stores,  hard-bake,  apples,  flat-fish  and  oysters.  The 
streets  present  a  lively  and  animated  appearance,  occasioned  chiefly  by 
the  conviviality  of  the  military.  It  is  truly  delightful  to  a  philanthropic 
mind,  to  see  these  gallant  men  staj/gering  along  under  the  influence 
of  an  overflow  both  of  animal  and  ardent  spirits  :  more  especially  when 
we  remember  that  the  following  them  about  and  jesting  with  them, 
affords  a  cheap  and  innocent  amusement  for  the  boy  population.  No- 
thing (adds  Mr.  Pickwick)  can  exceed  their  good  humour.  It  was  but 
the  day  before  my  arrival,  that  one  of  them  had  been  most  grossly  in- 
sulted ill  the  house  of  a  publican.  The  bar-maid  had  positively  refused 
to  draw  him  any  more  liquor;  in  return  for  which,  he  had  (merely 
in  playfulness)  drawn  his  bayonet,  and  wounded  the  girl  in  the 
shoulder.  And  yet  this  fine  fellow  wa.s  the  very  first  to  go  down  to  the 
house  next  morning,  and  express  his  readiness  to  overlook  the  matter, 
and  forget  what  had  occurred  ! 

"The  consumption  of  tobacco  in  these  towns  (continues  Mr.  Pick- 
wick) must  be  very  gnat:  and  the  smell  which  pervades  the  streets 
must  be  e.Tceedingly  delicious  to  those  who  are  extremely  fond  of 
smoking.  A  superficial  traveller  might  object  to  the  dirt  which  is  their 
leading  characleris'.ic  ;  but  to  those  who  view  it  as  an  indication  of 
traffic,  and  commercial  prosperity,  it  u  truly  gratifying." 


THE  PICKWICE  CLCB.  ^  23 

Punctual  to  five  o'clock,  came  the  stranger,  and  sbbrtly  afterward  the 
dinner.  He  had  divested  himself  of  hia  brown  paper  parcel,  but  had 
made  no  alteration  in  his  attire  ;  and  was,  if  possible,  more  loquacious 
than  ever. 

'«  What's  that  1"  he  inquired,  as  the  waiter  removed  one  of  the  covers. 

"  Soles,  sir." 

"  Soles — ah  I — capital  fish — all  come  from  London — stage-coach 
•proprietors  get  up  poUtical  dinners — carriage  of  soles — dozens  of  bas- 
kets— cunning  fellows.     Glass  of  wine,  sir  I" 

"With  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick — and  the  stranger  took  wine; 
first  with  him,  and  then  with  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  then  with  Mr.  Tup- 
man,  and  then  with  Mr.  Winkle,  and  then  with  the  whole  party  together, 
almost  as  rapidly  as  he  talked. 

"  Odd  mess  on  the  staircase,  waiter,"  said  the  stranger,  "  forms 
going  uf>— carpenters  coming  down — lamps,  glasses,  harps.  What's 
going  forward." 

"  Ball,  sir,"  said  the  waiter. 

"Assembly — ehV 

"No,  sir,'not  assembly,  sir.     Ball  for  the  benefit  of  a  charity,  sir." 

*'Many  fijie  women  in  this  town,  do  you  know,  sir  V  inquired  Mr. 
Tupman,  with  great  interest. 

"  Splendid — capital.  Kent,  sir — every  body  knows  Kent— apples, 
cherries,  hops,  and  women.     Glass  af  wine,  sir  I" 

'•  With  great  pleasure,''  replied  Mr.  Tupman.  The  stranger  filled, 
and  emptied. 

"  I  should  very  much  like  to  go,"  Said  Mr.  Tupman,  resuming  the 
subject  of  the  ball,  "very  much." 

"Tickets  at  the  ball,  sir,"  interposed  the  waiter.  "Haifa-guinea 
each  sir." 

Mr.  Tupman  again  expressed  an  earnest  wish  to  be  present  at  the 
festivity  ;  but  meeting  with  no  response  in  the  darkened  eye  of  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  or  the  abstracted  gaze  of  .Mr  Pickwick,  he  applied  himself 
with  great  interest  to  the  port  wine  and  dessert  which  had  just  been 
placed  on  the  table.  The  waiter  withdrew,  and  the  party  were  left  to 
enjoy  the  cosy  couple  of  hours  succeeding  dinner. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  the  stranger,  "  bottle  stands — pass  it 
.iround — way  of  the  sun — through  the  button-hole — no  heeltaps,"  and 
he  emptied  his  glass,  which  he'had  filled  about  two  minutes  before  ; 
and  poured  out  another,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  was  used  to  it. 

The  wine  was  passed,  and  a  fresh  supply  ordered.  The  visiter  talked, 
the  Pickwickians  listened.  Mr.  Tupman  felt  every  moment  more  dis- 
posed for  the  ball.  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance  glowed  with  an  ex- 
pression of  universal  philanthropy  :  and  Mr.  Winkle  aiid  Mr.  Snod- 
grass fell  fast  asleep. 

"  They're  beginning  up-stairs,"  said  the  stranger,  "  hear  the  company 
— fiddles  toning — now  the  harp — there  they  go."  The  various  sounds 
which  found  their  way  down-stairs,  announced  the  commencement  of 
the  first  quadrille. 

"  How  I  should  like  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  r.gain. 

"So  should  I,"  said  the  stranger, — "confounded  luggage — heavj 
emacks — nothing  to  go  in — odd,  a'n't  it  1" 

Now  general  benevolence  was  one  of  the  leading  features  of  the 
Pickwickian  theory,  and  no  one  was  more  remarkable  for  the  zealous 
manner  in  which  he  observ'ed  so  noble  a  principle,  than  Mr.  Tracy 


24  POSTHUMOUS    PAPEn3  OK 

Tuptiian.  The  number  of  instances,  recorded  on  the  Transactions  of 
the  Societ}',  in  which  that  excellent  man  referred  objects  of  charity 
to  the  houses  of  other  members  for  left-olf  garments,  or  pecuniary 
relief,  is  almost  incredible. 

"  I  should  be  very  happy  to  lend  you  a  change  of  apparel  for  the  pur- 
pose," said  Mr.  Tracy  Tiipman,  "  but  you. are  rather  slim,  and  I  am — " 

"  kather  fal — grown  up  Bacchus — cut  the  leaves — dismounted  fioni 
the  tub,  and  adopted* kersey,  eh? — not  double  distilled,  but  double 
milled,     ha!   ha!   pass  the  wine." 

Whether  Mr.  Tupman  was  somewhat  indignant  at  the  peremptory 
tone  in  which  he  was  desired  to  pass  the  wine  which  the  stranger 
passed  so  quickly  away  ;  or  whether  he  felt  very  properly  scandalized, 
at  an  influential  member  of  the  Pickwick  club  being  ignominiously 
compared  to  a  dismounted  Bacchus,  is  a  fact  not  yet  completely  ascer- 
tained.  He  passed  the  wine,  coughed  twice,  and  looked  at  the  stranger 
for  several  seconds  with  a  stern  intensity  ;  as  thai  individual,  however, 
appeared  perfectly  collected,  and  quite  calm  under  his  searching  glance, 
he  gradually  relaxed,  and  reverted  to  the  subject  of  the  ball. 

"  I  was  about  to  observe,  sir,"  he  said,  "  that  though  my  apparel 
would  be  too  large,  a  suit  of  my  friend  Mr.  Winkle's  would,  perhapf, 
lit  you  better." 

The  stranger  took  Mr.  Winkle's  measure  with  his  eye ;  and  that 
feature  glistened  with  satisfaction  as  he  said — "  Just  the  thing  !" 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  round  him.  The  wine  which  had  exerted  its 
somniferous  influence  over  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  Mr.  Winkle,  had  stolen 
upon  the  senses  of  Mr.  Pickwick.  That  gentleman  had  gradually 
passed  through  the  various  stages  which  precede  the  lethargy  produced 
by  dinner,  and  its  consequences.  He  had  undergone  the  ordinary 
transitions  from  the  height  of  conviviality,  to  the  depth  of  misery,  and 
from  the  depth  of  misery,  to  the  height  of  conviviality.  Like  a  gas 
lamp  in  the  street,  with  the  wind  in  the  pipe,  he  had  exhibited  for  a 
moment  an  unnatural  brilliancy  ;  then  sunk  so  low  as  to  be  scarcely 
discernible  :  after  a  short  interval  he  had  burst  out  again,  to  enlighten 
for  a  moment,  then  flickered  with  an  uncertain  staggering  sort  of  light, 
then  gone  out  altogether.  His  head  was  sunk  upon  his  bosom  ;  and 
perpetual  snoring,  with  a  partial  choke,  occasionally,  were  the  only 
audible  indications  of  the  great  man's  presence. 

The  temptation  to  be  present  at  the  ball,  and  to  form  his  first  im- 
pressions of  the  beauty  of  the  Kentish  ladies,  was  strong  upon  Mr. 
Tupman.  The  temptation  to  take  the  stranger  with  him,  was  equally 
great.  He  was  wholly  unacquainted  with  the  place,  and  its  inhabit- 
ants ;  and  the  stranger  seemed  to  possess  as  great  a  knowledge  of 
both,  as  if  he  had  lived  there  from  his  infancy.  Mr.  Winkle  was 
asleep,  and  Mr.  Tupman  had  had  sufficient  experience  in  such  matters 
to  know^  that  the  moment  he  awoke,  he  would,  in  the  ordinary  course 
of  nature,  roll  heavily  to  bed.  He  was  undecided.  "  fill  your  glass 
and  pass  the  wine,"  said  the  indefiitigable  visiter. 

Mr.  Tupman  did  as  he  was  requested  ;  and  the  additional  stimulus 
of  the  last  glass  settled  his  determination. 

"  Winkle's  bed-room  is  inside  of  mine,"  said  Mr.  Tupman^  "  I 
couldn't  make  him  understand  what  I  wanted,  if  I  woke  him  now,  but 
I  know  he  has  a  dress  suit  in  a  carpet  bag  ;  and  supposing  you  wore  it 
to  the  ball,  and  took  it  oft' when  we  returned,  I  could  replace  it  without 
troubling  him  at  all  about  the  matter." 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  25 

**  Capital,"  said  the  stranger,  "  famous  plan — very  odd  situation — 
fourteen  coats  in  the  packing  cases,  and  obliged  to  wear  another  man's 
—very  good  notion,  that — very." 

"  We  must  purchase  our  tickets,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Not  worth  while  spUtiing  a  guinea,"  said  the  stranger,  '*  Toss 
who  shall  pay  for  both — I  call ;  you  spin — first  time— woman — woman 
— bewitching  woman,''  and  down  came  the  sovereign  with  the  Dragon 
(called  by  courtesy  a  woman)  uppermost. 

Mr.  Tupman  rang  the  bell,  purchased  the  tickets,  and  ordered  cham- 
ber-candlesticks. In  another  quarter  of  an  hour  the  stranger  was  com- 
pletely arrayed  in  a  full  suit  of  Mr.  Nathaniel  Winkle's. 

"  It"s  a  new  coat,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  as  the  stranger  surveyed  him- 
self with  great  complacency  in  a  cheval  glass.  "  The  first  that's  been 
made  with  our  club  button,— and  he  called  his  companion's  attention 
to  the  large  gilt  button  which  displayed  a  bust  of  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the 
centre,  and  the  letters  "  P.  C."  on  either  side. 

"P.  C."  said  the  stranger.  "  Queer  set  out — old  fellow's  likeness, 
and  'P.  C — What  docs  P.  C.  stand  for — peculiar  coat,  eh!"  Mr. 
Tupman,  with  rising  indignation,  and  great  importance,  explained  the 
mystic  device. 

"Rather  short  in  the  waist,  a'n't  it !"  said  the  stranger,  screwing 
himself  round,  to  catch  a  glimpse  in  the  glass  of  the  waist  Ijuttons 
which  were  half  way  up  his  back.  "  Like  a  genera!  postman's  coat — 
queer  coats  those — made  by  contract — no  measuring — mysterious  dis- 
pensafion  of  Providence — all  the  short  men  get  long  coats — all  the 
long  men  short  ones."  Running  on  in  this  way,  Mr.  Tupman's  new 
companion  adjusted  his  dress,  or  rather  the  dress  of  Mr.  Winkle,  and, 
accompanied  by  Mr.  Tupman,  ascended  the  staircase  leading  to  the 
ball  room. 

"  What  names,  sir  1"  said  the  man  at  the  door.  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman 
was  stepping  forward  to  announce  his  own  titles,  when  the  stranger 
prevented  him. 

♦'  No  names  at  all," — and  then  he  whispered  Mr.  Tupman,  '•  Names 
won't  do — not  known — very  good  names  in  their  way,  but  not  great 
ones — capital  names  for  a  small  party,  but  won't  make  an  impression 
in  public  assemblies — incog,  the  thing — Gentleraen  from  London — 
distinguished  foreigners — any  thing."  The  door  was  thrown  open  ; 
and  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  and  the  stranger  entered  the  ball  room. 

It  was  a  long  room,  with  crimson-covered  benches,  and  wax  candles 
in  glass  chandeliers.  The  musicians  were  securely  confined  in  an 
elevated  den,  and  quadrilles  were  being  systematically  got  through  by 
two  or  three  sets  of  dancers.  Two  card-tables  were  made  up  in  the 
adjoining  card-room,  and  two  pair  of  old  ladies,  and  a  corresponding 
number  of  stout  gentlemen,  were  executing  whist  therein. 

The  finale  concluded,  the  dancers  promenaded  the  room,  and  Mr. 
Tupman  and  his  companion  stationed  themselves  in  a  corner,  to 
observe  the  company. 

"Charming  woman,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  the  stranger,  "fun  presently;  nobs  not 
come  yet — queer  place — dock-yard  people  of  upper  rank  don't  know 
dock-yard  people  of  lower  rank — dock-yard  people  of  lower  rank  don't 
know  small  gentry — small  gentry  don't  know  tradespeople — Commis- 
sioner don't  know  anvbody." 

Vol.  I.— 3. 


»0  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"Who's  that  little  boy  with  the  light  hair  and  pink  eyes,  in  a  fancy 
dress  T'  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

♦'  Hush,  pray — pink  eyes — fancy  dress — little  boy — nonsense — En- 
sign 97th. — Honourable  Wilmot  Snipe — great  family — Snipes— very  " 

"Sir  Thomas  Clubber,  Lady  Clubber,  and  the  Miss  Clubbers!" 
shouted  the  man  at  the  door  in  a  stentorian  voice.  A  great  sensation 
was  created  throughout  the  room,  by  the  entrance  of  a  tall  gentleman 
in  a  blue  coat  and  bright  buttons,  a  large  lady  in  blue  satin,  and  two 
young  ladies  on  a  similar  scale,  in  fashionable-made  dresses  of  the 
same  hue. 

"  Commissioner — head  of  the  yard — great  man — remarkably  great 
man,"  whispered  the  stranger  in  Mr.  Tupman's  ear,  as  the  charitable 
committee  ushered  Sir  Thomas  Clubber  and  family  to  the  top  of  the 
room.  The  Honourable  Wilmot  Snipe,  and  other  distinguished  gen- 
tlemen crowded  to  render  homage  to  the  Miss  Clubbers  ;  and  Sir 
Thomas  Clubber  stood  bolt  upright,  and  looked  majestically  over  his 
black  neckerchief  at  the  assembled  company. 

'*  Mr.  Smithie,  Mrs.  Smithie,  and  the  Misses  Sraithie,"  Wcis  the 
next  announcement. 

"What's  Mr.  Smithie?'  inquired  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman. 

"  Something  in  the  yard,"  replied  the  stranger. 

Mr.  Smithie  bowed  deferentially  to  Sir  Thomas  Clubber  ;  and  Sir 
Thomas  Clubber  acknowledged  the  salute  with  conscious  condescen- 
sion. Lady  Clubber  took  a  telescope  view  of  Mrs.  Smithie  and  family 
through  her  eye-glass,  and  Mrs.  Smithie  stared  in  her  turn,  at  Mrs. 
Somebody  else,  whose  husband  was  not  in  the  dock-yard  at  all. 

"  Colonel  Bulder,  Mrs.  Colonel  Bulder,  and  Miss  Bulder,"  were  the 
next  arrivals. 

"  Head  of  the  garrison,"  said  the  stranger,  in  reply  to  Mr.  Tupman's 
inquiring  look. 

Miss  Bulder  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the  Miss  Clubbers  ;  tho 
greeting  between  Mrs.  Colonel  Bulder,  and  Lady  Clubber  was  of  the 
most  affectionate  description  ;  Colonel  Bulder  and  Sir  Thomas  Clubber 
exchanged  snuff-boxes,  and  looked  very  much  like  a  pair  of  Alexander 
Selkirks  ; — "  monarchs  of  all  they  surveyed." 

While  the  aristocracy  of  the  place — the  Bulders,  and  Clubbers,  and 
Snipes — were  thus  preserving  their  dignity  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
room,  the  other  classes  of  society  were  imitating  their  example  in  other 
parts  of  it.  The  less  aristocratic  officers  of  the  97th  devoted  them- 
selves to  the  families  of  the  less  important  functionaries  from  the  dock- 
yard. The  solicitors'  wives,  and  the  wine  merchant's  wife,  headed 
another  grade,  (the  brewer's  wife  visited  the  Bulders  ;)  and  Mrs.  Tom- 
linson,  the  post-office  keeper,  seemed  by  mutual  consent  to  have  been 
chosen  the  leader  of  the  trade  party. 

One  of  the  most  popular  personages,  in  his  own  circle,  present,  was 
a  little  fat  man,  with  a  ring  of  upright  black  hair  round  his  head,  and 
an  extensive  bald  plain  on  the  top  of  it — Doctor  Slammer,  surgeon  to 
the  97th.  The  doctor  took  snufi'with  every  body,  chatted  with  every 
body,  laughed,  danced,  made  jokes,  played  whist,  did  every  thing,  and 
was  every  where.  To  these  pursuits,  multifarious  as  they  were,  the 
little  doctor  added  a  more  important  one  than  any — he  was  indefatiga- 
ble in  paying  the  most  unremitting  and  devoted  attention  to  a  little  old 
widow,  whose  rich  dress  and  profusion  of  ornament  bespoke  her  a 
most  desirable  addition  to  a  limited  income. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  27 

Upon  the  doctor,  and  the  widow,  the  eyes  both  of  Mr.  Tapman  and 
his  companion  hgid  been  lixcd  for  some  time,  when  the  stranger  broke 
•ilence. 

*'  Lots  of  money — old  girl — pompous  doctor — not  a  bad  idea — good 
fun,"  were  the  intelligible  sentences  which  issued  from  his  lips.  Mr. 
Tupraan  looked  inquisitively  in  his  face. 

"  I'll  dance  with  the  widow,"  said  the  stranorer. 

"Who  is  she  V  inquired  Mr.  Tupraan. 

"  Don't  know — never  saw  her  in  all  my  life — cut  out  the  doctor — 
here  goes."  And  the  stranger  forthwith  crossed  the  room  ;  and,  lean- 
ing against  a  mantel-piece,  commenced  gazing  with  an  air  of  repectful 
and  melancholy  admiration  on  the  fat  countenance  of  the  little  old  laJy. 
Mr.  Tupman  looked  on  in  mute  astonishment.  The  stranger  pro- 
gressed rapidly  ;  the  little  doctor  danced  with  another  lady — the  widow 
dropped  her  fan  ;  the  stranger  picked  it  up,  and  presented  it — a  smile 
— a  bow — a  curtsey — a  few  words  of  conversation.  The  stranger 
walked  boldly  up  to,  and  returned  with,  the  master  of  the  ceremonies  ; 
a  little  introductory  pantomime  ;  and  the  stranger  and  Mrs.  Budger 
took  their  places  in  a  quadrille. 

The  surprise  of  Mr.  Tupman  at  this  summary  proceeding,  great  as 
it  was.  was  immeasurably  exceeded  by  the  astonishment  of  the  doctor. 
The  stranger  was  young  and  the  widow  was  flattered.  The  doctor's 
attentions  were  unheeded  by  the  widow  ;  and  the  doctor's  indignation 
was  wholly  lost  on  his  imperturbable  rival.  Doctor  Slammer  was 
paralyzed.  He,  Doctor  Slammer  of  the  97th,  to  be  extinguished  in  a 
moment,  by  a  man  whom  nobody  had  ever  seen  before,  and  whom 
nobody  knew  even  now  !  Doctor  Slammer — Doctor  Slammer  of  the 
97th,  rejected  !  Impossible  !  It  could  not  be  I  Yes,  it  was  ;  there 
they  were.  What  !  introducing  his  friend  !  Could  he  believe  his 
eyes  I  He  looked  again,  and  was  under  the  painful  necessity  of  ad- 
mitting the  veracity  of  his  optics  ;  .Mrs.  Budger  was  dancinij  with  Mr. 
Tracy  Tupman  ;  there  was  no  mistaking  the  fact.  There  was  the 
widow  before  him,  bouncing  bodily  here  and  there,  with  unwonted 
■vigour  ;  and  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  hopping  about,  with  a  face  expressive 
of  the  most  intense  solemnity,  dancing  (as  a  good  many  people  do)  as 
if  a  quadrille  were  not  a  thing  to  be  laughed  at,  but  a  severe  trial  to 
the  feelings,  which  it  requires  inflexible  resolution  to  encounter. 

Silently  and  patiently  did  the  doctor  bear  all  this,  and  all  the  hand- 
ings of  negus,  and  watching  for  glasses,  and  darting  for  biscuits,  and 
coquettinof,  that  ensued;  but  a  few  seconds  after  the  stranijer  had 
disappeared  to  lead  Mrs.  Budi^er  to  her  carriage,  he  darted  swiftly 
from  the  room  with  every  particle  of  his  hitherto  bottled-up  indii^nation 
eflfervescing,  from  all  parts  of  his  countenance,  in  a  perspiration  of 
passion. 

The  stranger  was  returning,  and  Mr.  Tupman  was  beside  him. — 
He  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  laucrhed.  The  little  doctor  thirsted  for 
his  life.     He  was  exulting.     He  had  triumphed. 

•'  Sir  !"'  said  the  doctor,  in  an  awful  voice,  producing  a  card,  and 
retiring  into  an  angle  of  the  pa.<!sa<Tp,  '«  my  name  is  Slammer,  Doctor 
Slammer,  sir — 97th  regiment — Chatham  liarracks — My  card,  sir,  my 
card."     He  would  have  added  more,  but  his  indignation  choked  him. 

"Ah  I"  replied  the  stranger,  coolly,  "Slammer — much  obliged — 
polite  attention — not  ill  now,  Slammer — but  when  I  am— knock  you  up." 

'•You — you're  a  shuffler,  sir,"  gasped  the  furious  doctor,  "a  pol- 


28  POSTHUHOOS    PAPERS    OF 

troon — a  coward — a  liar — a — a — Will  nothing  induce  you  to  give  me 
your  card,  sir  1" 

"  Oh  !  I  see,"  said  the  stranger,  half  aside,  "  negfis  too  strong  here 
— liberal  landlord — very  foolish — very — lemonade — much  better — hot 
rooms — elderly  gentlemen — suffer  for  it  in  the  morning — cruel — 
cruel ;"  and  he  moved  on  a  step  or  two. 

"  You  are  stopping  in  this  house,  sir,"  said  the  indignant  little  man  ; 
"  you  are  intoxicated  now,  sir  ;  you  shall  hear  from  me  in  the  morning,, 
sir.     I  shall  find  you  out,  sir  ;  I  shall  find  you  out  " 

"  Rather  you  found  me  out,  than  found  me  at  home,"  replied  the 
unmoved  stranger. 

Doctor  Slammer  looked  unutterable  ferocity,  as  he  fixed  his  hat  on 
his  head  with  an  indignant  knock;  and  the  stranger  and  Mr.  Tupman 
ascended  to  the  bed-room  of  the  latter  to  restore  the  borrowed  plumage 
to  the  unconscious  Winkle. 

That  gentleman  was  fast  asleep ;  the  restoration  was  soon  made. 
The  stranger  was  extremely  jocose  ;  and  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  being 
quite  bewildered  with  wine,  negus,  lights,  and  ladies,  thought  the 
whole  affair  an  exquisite  joke.  His  new  friend  departed  ;  and,  after 
experiencing  some  slight  difficulty  in  finding  the  orifice  in  his  night- 
tap,  originally  intended  for  the  reception  of  his  head,  and  finally  over- 
turning his  candlestick  in  his  struggles  to  put  it  on,  Mr.  Tracy  Tup- 
man managed  to  get  into  bed,  by  a  series  of  complicated  evolutions, 
and  shortly  afterwards  sank  into  repose. 

Seven  o'clock  had  hardly  ceased  striking  on  the  following  morning, 
when  Mr.  Pickwick's  comprehensive  mind  was  aroused  from  the  state 
of  unconsciousness,  in  which  slumber  had  plunged  it,  by  a  loud  luiock- 
ing  at  his  chamber  door. 

"  Who's  there  ]"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  starting  up  in  bed. 

"  Boots,  sir." 

"  What  do  you  want  1" 

«'  Please  sir,  can  you  tell  me,  which  gentleman  of  your  party  wears 
a  briglit  blue  dress  coat,  with  a  gilt  button  with  p.  c.  on  it  V 

"  It's  been  given  out  to  brush,"  thought  Mr.  Pickw^ick  ;  and  the  man 
has  forgotten  whom  it  belongs  to — "  Mr.  Winkle,"  he  called  out, 
*'  next  room  but  two,  on  the  right  hand." 

"  Thank'ee,  sir,"  said  the  boots,  and  away  he  went. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  cried  Mr.  Tupman,  as  a  loud  knocking  at  his 
door  roused  him  from  his  oblivious  repose. 

"  Can  I  .speak  to  Mr.  Winkle,  sir?"  replied  the  boots  from  the  outside. 

"  Winkle — Winkle,"  shouted  Mr.  Tupman,  calling  into  the  inner 
room. 

"Hallo  !"  replied  a  faint  voice  from  within  the  bed-clothes. 

"  You're  wanted — some  one  at  the  door — "  and  having  exerted  him- 
self to  articulate  thus  much,  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  turned  round  and  fell 
fast  asleep  again. 

"  Wanted  ?"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  hastily  jumping  out  of  bed,  and  put- 
ting on  a  few  articles  of  clothing :  "  wanted  !  at  this  distance  from 
town — who  on  earth  can  want  me  !" 

"  Gentleman  in  the  coffee-room,  sir,"  replied  boots,  as  Mr.  Winkle 
opened  the  door,  and  confronted  him  :  "  gentleman  says  he'll  not  detain 
you  a  moment,  sir,  but  ho  can  take  no  denial." 

"  Very  odd  !"  said  Mr.  Winkle  ;  "  Pll  be  down  directly." 

•'  He  hurriedly  wrapped  himself  in  a  travelliug-shawl,  and  dressing- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  Zy 

gown,  and  proceeded  down  stairs.  An  old  woman  and  a  couple  of 
waiters  were  cleaning  the  colfee-room,  and  an  officer  in  undress  uni- 
form was  looking  out  of  the  window.  He  turned  round  as  Mr.  Winkle 
entered,  and  made  a  stiff*  inclination  of  the  head.  Having  ordered  the 
attendants  to  retire,  and  closed  the  door  very  carefully,  he  said,  "  Mr. 
Winkle,  I  presume  ?" 

"  My  name  is  Winkle,  sir  ?" 

"  You  will  not  be  surprised,  sir,  when  I  inform  you,  that  I  have 
called  here  this  morning  on  behalf  of  my  friend,  Dr.  Slammer,  of  the 
Ninety-seventh." 

"Doctor  Slammer!"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Doctor  Slammer.  He  begged  me  to  express  his  opinion  that  your 
conduct  of  last  evening  was  of  a  description  which  no  gentleman  could 
endure  :  and  (he  added)  which  no  one  gentleman  would  pursue  towards 
another." 

Mr.  Winkle's  astonishment  was  too  real,  and  too  evident,  to  escape 
the  observation  of  Dr.  Slammer's  friend  ;  he  therefore  proceeded.  "  My 
friend,  Doctor  Slammer,  requested  me  to  add,  that  he  is  firmly  per- 
suaded you  were  intoxicated  during  a  portion  of  the  evening,  and  pos- 
sibly unconscious  of  the  extent  of  the  insult  you  were  guilty  of  He 
commissioned  me  to  say,  that  should  this  be  pleaded  as  an  excuse  for 
your  behaviour,  he  will  consent  to  accept  a  written  apology,  to  be 
penned  by  you,  from  my  dictation." 

"  A  written  apology  !"  repeated  Mr.  Winkle,  in  the  most  emphatic 
tone  of  amazement  possible. 

"  Of  course  you  know  the  alternative,"  replied  the  visiter,  coolly. 

"  Were  you  intrusted  with  this  message  to  me  by  name  1"  inquired 
Mr.  Winkle,  whose  intellects  were  hopelessly  confused  by  this  extra- 
ordinary conversation. 

"  I  was  not  present  myself,"  replied  the  visiter,  "  and  in  consequence 
of  your  firm  refusal  to  give  your  card  to  Dr.  Slammer,  I  was  desired 
by  that  gentleman  to  identify  the  wearer  of  a  very  uncommon  coat — a 
bright  blue  dress  coat,  with  a  gilt  button,  displaying  a  bust,  and  the 
letters  '  p.  c'  " 

Mr.  Winkle  actually  staggered  with  astonishment  as  he  heard  his  own 
costume  thus  minutely  described.     Dr.  Slammer's  friend  proceeded  : 

"  From  the  inquiries  I  made  at  the  bar,  just  now,  I  was  convinced 
that  the  owner  of  the  coat  in  question  arrived  here,  with  three  gentle- 
men, yesterday  afternoon.  I  immediately  sent  up  to  the  gentleman 
who  was  described  as  appearing  the  head  of  the  party  ;  and  he,  at 
once,  referred  me  to  you." 

If  the  principal  tower  of  Rochester  Castle  had  suddenly  walked  from 
its  foundation,  and  stationed  itself  opposite  the  coftee-room  window, 
Mr.  Winkle's  surprise  would  have  been  as  nothing,  compared  with  the 
profound  astonishment  with  which  he  had  heard  this  address.  His 
first  impression  was  that  his  coat  had  been  stolen.  "  Will  you  allow 
me  to  detain  you  one  moment  1"  said  he. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  unwelcome  visiter. 

Mr.  Winkle  ran  hastily  up  stairs,  and  with  a  trembling  hand  opened 
the  bag.  There  was  the  coat  in  its  usual  place,  but  exhibiting,  on  a 
close  inspection,  evident  tokens  of  having  been  worn  on  the  preceding 
night. 

"It  must  be  so,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  letting  the  coat  fall  from  his 
hands  ;  "  I  took  too  much  wiiie  after  dinner,  and  ha^c  a  very  vague 

3* 


30  POSTMOMOOS  PAPER*  OT 

recollection  of  walking  about  the  streets,  and  smoking  a  cigar  after- 
wards. The  fact  is,  I  was  very  drunk  ;  I  must  have  changed  my  coat 
— gone  somewhere — and  insulted  somebody  ;  I  have  no  doubt  of  it ; 
and  this  message  is  the  terrible  consequence."  Saying  which,  Mr. 
Winkle  retraced  his  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  coffee-roam,  with  the 
gloomy  and  dreadful  resolve  of  accepting  the  challenge  of  the  warlike 
Doctor  Slammer,  and  abiding  by  the  worst  consequences  that  might 
ensue. 

To  this  determination  Mr.  Winkle  was  urged  by  a  variety  of  consi- 
derations ;  the  first  of  which  was,  his  reputation  with  the  club.  He 
had  always  been  looked  up  to  as  a  high  authority  on  all  matters  of 
amusement  and  dexterity,  whether  offensive,  defensive,  or  inoffensive  ; 
and  if,  on  this  very  first  occasion  of  being  put  to  the  test,  he  shrunk 
back  from  the  trial  beneath  his  leader's  eye,  his  name  and  standing 
were  lost  for  ever.  Besides,  he  remembered  to  have  heard  it  frequently 
surmised  by  the  uninitiated  in  such  matters,  that  by  an  understood 
arrangement  between  the  seconds,  the  pistols  were  seldom  loaded  with 
ball ;  and,  furthermore,  he  reflected  that  if  he  applied  to  Mr.  Snodgrass 
to  act  as  his  second,  and  depicted  the  danger  in  glowing  terms,  that 
gentleman  might  possibly  communicate  the  intelligence  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, who  would  certainly  lose  no  time  in  transmitting  it  to  the  local 
authorities,  and  thus  prevent  the  killing  or  maiming  of  his  follower. 

Such  were  his  thoughts  when  he  returned  to  the  coflee-room,  and 
intimated  his  intention  of  accepting  the  Doctor's  challenge. 

"Will  you  refer  me  to  a  friend,  to  arrange  the  time  and  place  of 
meeting!"  said  the  officer. 

"  Quite  unnecessary,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  "  name  them  to  me,  and 
I  can  procure  the  attendance  of  a  friend  afterwards." 

"Shall  Vv'c  say — sunset,  this  evening!"  inquired  the  officer  in  a 
careless  tone. 

"  Very  good,"  replied  Mr.  Wuikle  ;  thinking  in  his  heart  it  was 
very  bad. 

«  You  know  Fort  Pitt !" 

"  Yes  ;  I  saw  it  yesterday." 

"  If  you  take  the  trouble  to  turn  into  the  field  which  borders  the 
trench,  take  the  foot-path  to  the  left,  when  you  arrive  at  an  angle  of  the 
fortification  ;  and  keep  straight  on  till  you  see  me  :  I  will  precede  you 
to  a  secluded  place,  where  the  affair  can  be  conducted  without  fear  of 
interruption." 

"  Fear  of  interruption  !"  thought  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Nothing  more  to  arrange,  I  think,"  said  the  oflicer. 

"  I  am  not  aware  of  any  thing  more,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Good  morning." 

"  Good  morning  :"  and  the  officer  whistled  a  lively  air  as  he  strode 
away. 

That  morning's  breakfast  passed  heavily  off.  Mr.  Tupman  was  not 
in  a  condition  to  rise,  after  the  unwonted  dissipation  of  the  previous 
night ;  Mr.  Snodgrass  appeared  to  labour  under  a  poetical  depression 
of  spirits;  and  even  Mr.  Pickwick  evinced  an  unusual  attachment  to 
Bilence  and  soda  water.  Mr.  Winkle  eagerly  watched  his  opportunity. 
It  was  not  long  wanting.  Mr.  Snodgrass  proposed  a  visit  to  the  castle, 
and  as  Mr.  Winkle  was  the  only  other  member  of  the  party  disposed  to 
walk,  they  went  out  together. 

"  Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  when  they  had  turned  out  of  the 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  31 

public  street ;  "Snodgrass,  my  dear  fellow,  can  I  rely  upon  your  secrecy  ^" 
As  he  said  this,  he  most  devoutly  and  earnestly  hoped  he  could  not. 

"  You  can,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass.     "  Hear  me  swear " 

"  No,  no  :"  interrupted  Winkle,  terriried  at  the  idea  of  his  com- 
panion's unconsciously  pledging  himself  not  to  give  infoimation ; 
"don't  swear,  don't  swear;  it's  quite  unnecessary." 

Mr.  Snodgrass  dropped  the  hand  which  he  had,  in  the  spirit  of  poesy, 
raised  towards  the  clouds,  as  he  made  the  above  appeal,  and  assumed 
an  attitude  of  attention. 

"  I  want  your  assistance,  my  dear  fellow,  in  an  affair  of  honour," 
said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"You  shall  have  it,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass,  clasping  his  friend's  hand. 

•'  With  a  doctor — Doctor  Slammer,  of  the  Ninety-seventii,"  said  Mr. 
Winkle,  wishing  to  make  the  matter  appear  as  solemn  as  possible  ;  "  an 
affair  with  an  officer,  seconded  by  another  officer,  at  sunset  this  even- 
ing, in  a  lonely  field  beyond  Fort  Pitt." 

"  I  will  attend  you,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

He  was  astonished,  but  by  no  means  dismayed.  It  is  extraordinary 
how  cool  any  party  but  tlie  principal  can  be  in  such  cases.  Mr.  Winkle 
had  forgotten  this.     He  had  judged  of  his  friend's  feeUngs  by  his  own. 

"  The  consequences  may  be  dreadful,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  The  doctor,  I  believe,  is  a  very  good  shot,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"Most  of  these  military  men  are,"  observed  Mr.  Snodgrass,  calmly; 
"  but  so  are  you,  a'n't  you  !" 

Mr.  Winkle  replied  in  the  affirmative  :  and  perceiving  that  he  had 
not  alarmed  his  companion  sufliciently,  changed  his  ground. 

"  Snodgrass,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  "  if  I  fall, 
you  will  find  in  a  packet  which  I  shall  place  in  your  hands,  a  note  for 
my — for  my  father." 

This  attack  was  a  failure  also.  Mr.  Snodgrass  was  aflected,  but  he 
undertook  the  delivery  of  the  note  as  readily  as  if  he  had  been  a  two- 
penny postman. 

"  If  I  fall,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  "  or  if  the  doctor  falls,  you,  my  dear 
friend,  will  be  tried  as  an  accessary  before  the  fact.  Shall  I  involve 
my  friend  in  transportation — possibly  for  life  !" 

Mr.  Snodgrass  winced  a  little  at  this,  but  his  heroism  was  invincible. 
"  In  the  cause  of  friendship,"  he  fervently  exclaimed,  "  I  would  brave 
all  dangers." 

How  Mr.  Winkle  cursed  his  companion's  devoted  friendshi]>  inter- 
nally, as  they  walked  silently  along,  side  by  side,  for  some  minutes, 
each  immersed  in  his  own  meditations  !  The  morning  was  wearing 
away  ;  he  grew  desperate. 

"  Snodgrass,"  he  said,  stopping  suddenly,  "  do  not  let  me  be  balked 
in  this  matter — do  7iot  give  information  to  the  local  authorities — do  not 
obtain  the  assistance  of  several  peace  officers  to  take  either  me  or  Doc- 
tor Slammer  of  the  Ninety-seventh  regiment,  at  present  tjuartered  in 
Cliatham  Barracks,  into  custody,  and  thus  prevent  this  duel ; — I  say 

do  7iO/." 

Mr.  Snodgrass  seized  his  friend's  hand  warmly,  as  he  enthusiastically 
replied,  "  Not  for  worlds  !'' 

A  thrill  passed  over  Mr.  Winkle's  frame,  as  the  conviction  that  ho 
had  nothing  to  hope  from  his  friend's  fears,  and  that  he  was  destined 
to  become  an  animated  target,  rushed  forcibly  upon  him. 


SS  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

The  state  of  the  case  having  been  formally  explained  to  Mr.  SnodgratJs, 
and  a  case  of  satisfaction  pistols,  with  the  satisfactory  accompaniments 
of  powder,  hall,  and  caps,  having  been  hired  from  a  manufacturer  in 
Rochester,  the  two  friends  returned  to  their  inn  :  Mr.  Winkle,  to 
ruminate  on  the  approaching  struggle  ;  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  to  arrange 
the  weapons  of  war,  and  put  them  into  proper  order  for  immediate  use. 

It  was  a  dull  and  heavy  evening,  when  they  again  sallied  forth  on 
their  awkward  errand.  Mr.  Winkle  was  muffled  up  in  a  huge  cloak  to 
escape  observation  ;  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  bore  under  his  the  instruments 
of  destruction. 

"  Have  you  got  every  thing  1"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  in  an  agitated  tone. 

"  Every  thing,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass  ;  "  plenty  of  ammunition,  in 
case  the  shots  don't  take  effect.  There's  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  pow- 
der in  the  case,  and  I  have  got  two  newspapers  in  my  pocket,  for  the 
loadings." 

These  were  instances  of  friendship,  for  which  any  man  might 
reasonably  feel  most  grateful.  The  presumption  is  that  the  gratitude 
of  Mr.  Winkle  was  too  powerful  for  utterance,  as  he  said  nothing,  but 
continued  to  walk  on — rather  slowly. 

"  We  are  in  excellent  time,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  they  climbed  the 
fence  of  the  first  field  ;  "the  sun  is  just  going  down."  Mr.  Winkle 
looked  up  at  the  declining  orb,  and  painfully  thought  of  the  probability 
of  his  "  going  down"'  himself  before  long. 

"There's  the  officer,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle,  after  a  few  minutes' 
walking. 

"  Where  V  said  Mr.  Snodgras.s. 

♦*  There  : — the  gentleman  in  the  blue  cloak."  Mr.  Snodgrass  looked 
in  the  direction  indicated  by  the  forefinger  of  his  friend,  and  observed 
a  figure,  muffled  up,  as  he  had  described.  The  officer  evinced  his  con- 
sciousness of  their  presence  by  slightly  beckoning  with  his  hand  ;  and 
the  two  friends  followed  him,  at  a  little  distance,  as  he  walked  away. 

The  evening  grew  more  dull  every  moment,  and  a  melancholy  wind 
sounded  through  the  deserted  fields,  like  a  distant  giant  whistling  for 
his  house-dog.  The  sadness  of  the  scene  imparted  a  sombre  tinge  to 
the  feelings  of  Mr.  Winkle.  He  started  as  they  passed  the  angle  of 
the  trench — it  looked  like  a  colossal  grave. 

The  officer  turned  suddenly  from  the  path ;  and  after  climbing  a 
paling,  and  scaling  a  hedge,  entered  a  secluded  field.  Two  gentlemen 
were  waiting  in  it ;  one  was  a  little  fat  man,  with  black  hair  ;  and  the 
other — a  portly  personage  in  a  braided  surtout — was  sitting  with  per- 
fect equanimity  on  a  camp-stool. 

"  The  other  party,  and  a  surgeon,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass  ; 
"  take  a  drop  of  brandy."  Mr.  Winkle  seized  the  wicker  bottle  which  his 
friend  proffered,  and  took  a  lengthened  pull  at  the  exhilarating  liquid. 

"  My  friend,  sir,  Mr.  Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  W^inkle,  as  the  officer 
approached.  Doctor  Slammer's  friend  bowed,  and  produced  a  case 
similar  to  that  which  Mr.  Snodgrass  carried. 

"  We  have  nothing  farther  to  say,  sir,  I  think,"  he  coldly  remarked, 
as  he  opened  the  case  ;  "  an  apology  has  been  resolutely  declined." 

*'  Nothing,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  began  to  feel  rather  un- 
comfortable himself. 

"  Will  you  step  forward  ?"  said  the  officer. 

*'  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass.  The  ground  was  measured, 
and  preliminaries  arranged. 


THE  PICKWICK  CI.UB.  33 

"You  will  find  these  better  than  your  own,"  said  the  opposite 
second,  producing  his  pistols.  *'  You  saw  me  load  thcin.  Do  yoa 
object  to  use  them  ;"' 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Snod^rass.  The  ofler  relieved  him 
from  considerable  embarrassment ;  for  his  previous  notions  ol'  loading 
a  pistol  were  rather  vague  and  undefined. 

"  We  may  place  our  men,  then,  I  think,"  observed  the  otEcer,  with 
as  much  inditference  as  if  the  principals  were  chess-men,  and  the 
seconds  players. 

'•  I  think  we  may,"  repUed  Mr.  Snodgrass  ;  who  would  have  assented 
to  any  proposition,  because  he  knew  nothing  about  the  matter.  The 
officer  crossed  to  Doctor  Slammer,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  went  up  to  Mr. 
"Winkle. 

"  It's  all  ready,"  he  saiJ,  offering  the  pistol.   "  Give  me  your  cloak." 

•'  You  have  got  the  packet,  my  dear  fellow  i"  said  poor  Winkle. 

"All  right,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass.     "  Be  steady  and  wing  him." 

It  occurred  to  Mr.  Winkle  that  this  advice  was  very  like  that  which 
by-standers  invariably  give  to  the  smallest  boy  in  a  street  fight ;  namely, 
"  Go  in,  and  win  ;"  an  admirable  thing  to  recommend,  if  you  only  know 
how  to  do  it.  He  took  off  his  cloak,  however,  in  silence — it  always 
took  a  long  time  to  undo  that  cloak — and  accepted  the  pistol.  'J'he 
seconds  retired,  the  gentleman  on  the  camp-stool  did  the  same,  and 
the  belligerents  approached  each  other. 

Mr.  Winkle  was  always  remarkable  for  extreme  humanity.  It  is 
conjectured  that  his  unwillingness  to  hurt  a  fellow-creature  intention- 
ally, was  the  cause  of  his  s^hutting  his  eyes  when  he  arrived  at  the 
fatal  spot ;  and  that  the  circumstance  of  his  eyes  being  closed,  pre- 
vented his  observing  the  very  extraordinary  and  unaccountable  de- 
meanour of  Doctor  Slammer.  That  gentleman  started,  stared, 
retreated,  rubbed  his  eyes,  stared  again  ;  and,  finally,  shouted  "  Stop, 
stop  I" 

'«  What's  all  this  1"  said  Doctor  Slammer,  as  his  friend  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass  came  running  up — "  That's  not  the  man." 

"Not  the  man  !"  said  Doctor  Slammer's  second. 

"  Not  the  man  !"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Not  the  man  I"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  camp-stool  in  his  hand. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  the  Uttle  doctor.  "  That's  not  the  person 
who  insulted  me  last  night." 

"Very  extraordinary  !"  exclaimed  the  officer. 

"  Very,"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  camp-stool.  "  The  only 
question  is,  whether  the  gentleman,  being  on  the  ground,  must  not  be 
considered,  as  a  matter  of  fonn,  to  be  the  individual  who  insulted  our 
friend,  Doctor  Slauuner,  yesterday  evening,  whether  he  is  really  that 
individual  or  not :"  and  having  delivered  this  suggestion  with  a  very 
sage  and  mysterious  air,  the  man  with  the  camp-stool  took  a  large 
pinch  of  snuff,  and  looked  profoundly  round,  with  the  air  of  an  autho- 
rity in  such  matters. 

Now  Mr.  Winkle  had  opened  liis  eyes,  and  his  ears  too,  when  he 
heard  his  adversary  call  out  for  a  cessation  of  ho.stilitios ;  and  per- 
ceiving by  what  he  had  afterwards  said,  that  there  was,  beyond  all 
question,  some  mistake  in  the  matter,  he  at  once  foresaw  the  increase 
of  reputation  he  should  inevitably  acquire,  by  concealing  the  real 
notive  of  his  coming  out :  he  therefore  stepped  boldly  forward,  and 
said — 


84  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

•'  I  am  not  the  person.     I  know  it." 

"  Then,  that,"  said  the  man  with  the  camp-stool,  *'  is  an  a/Tront  to 
Doctor  Slammer,  and  a  sufficient  reason  for  proceeding  immediately." 

"  Pray  be  quiet,  Payne,"  said  the  doctor's  second.  "Why  did  you 
not  communicate  this  fact  to  me  this  mornmg,  sir  !" 

"  To  be  sure — to  be  sure,"  said  the  man  with  the  camp-stool  in- 
dignantly. 

"  I  entreat  you  to  be  quiet,  Payne,"  said  the  other.  "  May  I  repeat 
my  question,  sir?' 

"  Because,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  who  had  had  time  to  deliberate 
upon  his  answer — "  because,  sir,  you  described  an  intoxicated  and 
ungentlemanly  person  as  wearing  a  coat  which  I  have  the  honour  not 
only  to  wear,  but  to  have  invented — the  proposed  uniform,  sir,  of  the 
Pickwick  Club  in  London.  The  honour  of  that  uniform  I  feel  bound 
to  maintain,  and  I  therefore,  without  inquiry,  accepted  the  challenge 
which  you  offered  me." 

*'  My  dear  sir,"  said  the  good-humoured  little  doctor,  advancing 
with  extended  hand,  "  I  honour  your  gallantry.  Permit  me  to  say, 
sir,  that  I  highly  admire  your  conduct,  and  extremely  regret  having 
caused  you  the  inconvenience  of  this  meeting,  to  no  purpose." 

**  I  beg  you  won't  mention  it,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  I  shall  feel  proud  of  your  acquaintance,  sir,"  said  the  little  doctor. 

"  It  will  afford  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  know  you,  sir,"  replied 
Mr.  Winkle.  Thereupon  the  doctor  and  Mr  Winkle  shook  hands, 
and  then  Mr.  W^inkle  and  Lieutenant  Tappleton,  (the  doctor's  second,) 
and  then  Mr.  Winkle  and  the  man  with  the  camp-stool ;  and,  finally, 
Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  :  the  last-named  gentleman  in  an 
excess  of  admiration  at  the  noble  conduct  of  his  heroic  friend. 

*'  I  think  we  may  adjourn,"  said  Lieutenant  Tappleton. 

*'  Certainly,"  added  the  doctor. 

*'  Unless,"  interposed  the  man  with  the  camp-stool,  "  unless  Mr. 
Winkle  feels  himself  aggrieved  by  the  challenge  ;  in  which  case,  I 
submit,  he  has  a  right  to  satisfaction." 

Mr.  Winkle,  with  great  self-denial,  expressed  himself  quite  satisfied 
already. 

"  Or,  possibly,"  said  the  man  with  the  camp-stool,  "the  gentleman's 
second  may  feel  himself  affronted  with  some  observations  which  fell 
from  me  at  an  early  period  of  this  meeting  ;  if  so,  I  shall  be  happy  to 
give  him  satisfaction  immediately." 

Mr.  Snodgrass  hastily  professed  himself  very  much  obliged  with  the 
handsome  offer  of  the  gentleman  who  had  spoken  last,  which  he  was 
only  induced  to  decline,  by  his  entire  contentment  with  the  whole  pro- 
ceedings. The  two  seconds  adjusted  the  cases,  and  the  whole  party  lefl 
the  ground  in  a  much  more  lively  manner  than  they  had  proceeded  to  it. 

"  Do  you  remain  long  here  !"  inquired  Doctor  Slammer  of  Mr. 
Winkle,  as  they  walked  on  most  amicably  together. 

"  I  think  I  shall  leave  here  the  day  after  to-morrow,"  was  the  reply. 

♦'  I  trust  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  and  your  friend  at 
ray  rooms,  and  of  spending  a  pleasant  evening  with  you,  after  this  awk- 
ward mistake,"  said  the  little  doctor :  "  are  you  disengaged  this 
evening  1" 

"  We  have  some  friends  here,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  "  and  I  should 
not  like  to  leave  them  to-night.  Perhaps  you  and  your  friend  will  join 
us  at  the  Bull." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  85 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  said  the  little  doctor  ;  "  will  ten  o'clock  be 
too  late  to  look  in  for  half  an  hour]" 

•'  Oh  dear  no,"  said  Mr.  Winkle.  "  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  in- 
troduce you  to  my  friends,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman," 

"  It  will  gi%-e  me  great  pleasure,  I  am  sure,"  replied  Doctor  Slammer, 
little  suspecting  who  Mr.  Tupman  was. 

"  You  will  be  sure  to  come  !"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Oh  certainly." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  road.  Cordial  farewells  were 
exchanged,  and  the  party  separated.  Doctor  Slammer  and  his  friends 
repaired  to  the  barracks,  and  Mr.  Winkle,  accompanied  by  his  friend, 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  returned  to  their  inn. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  NEW  ACQUAlNtANCE — THE  STROLLER's  TALE — A  DISAGREEABLE  INTHR- 
RUPTION  ;    AND  AN  UNPLEASANT  RENCONTRE. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  felt  some  apprehensions  in  consequence  of  the 
unusual  absence  of  his  two  friends,  which  their  mysterious  behaviour 
during  the  whole  morning  had  by  no  means  tended  to  diminish.  It 
was,  therefore,  with  more  than  ordinary  pleasure  that  he  rose  to  greet 
them  when  they  again  entered,  and  with  more  than  ordinary  interest 
that  he  inquired  what  had  occurred  to  detain  them  from  his  society. 
In  reply  to  his  questions  on  this  point,  Mr.  Snodgrass  wa.'^  about  to 
offer  an  historical  account  of  the  circumstances  just  now  detailed,  when 
he  was  suddenly  checked,  by  observing  that  there  were  present  not 
only  Mr.  Tupman  and  their  stage-coach  companion  of  the  preceding 
day,  but  another  stranger  of  equally  singular  appearance.  It  was  a 
care-worn  looking  man,  whose  sallow  face,  and  deeply  sunken  eyes, 
were  rendered  still  more  strikinir  than  nature  had  made  them,  by  the 
straight  black  hair  which  hung  in  matted  disorder  half  way  down  his 
face.  His  eyes  were  almost  unnaturally  bright  and  piercing ;  his 
cheek  bones  were  high  and  prominent ;  and  his  jaws  were  so  long  and 
lank,  that  an  observer  would  have  supposed  he  was  drav/ing  the  flesh 
of  his  face  in,  for  a  moment,  by  some  contraction  of  the  muscles,  if  his 
half-opened  mouth  and  immoveable  expression  had  not  announced  that 
it  was  his  ordinary  appearance.  Round  his  neck  he  wore  a  green 
3hawl  with  the  large  ends  straggling  over  his  chest,  and  making  their 
appearance  occasionally  beneath  the  worn  button-holes  of  his  old  waist- 
coat. His  upper  garment  was  a  long  black  surtout ;  and  below  it,  he 
wore  wide  drab  trousers,  and  large  boots  running  rapidly  to  seed. 

It  was  on  this  uncouth-looking  personage,  that  Mr.  Winkle's  eye 
rested,  and  it  was  towards  him  that  Mr.  Pickwick  extended  his  hand, 
when  he  said,  "  A  friend  of  our  friend's  here.  We  discovered  this 
morning  that  our  friend  was  connected  with  the  theatre  in  this  place, 
though  he  is  not  desirous  to  have  it  generally  known,  and  this  gentle- 
man is  a  member  of  the  same  profession.  He  was  about  to  favour  U8 
with  a  little  anecdote  connected  with  it,  when  you  entered." 

"  Lots  of  anecdote,"  said  the  greea  coated  strzuiger  of  the  day  before, 


36  POSTHUMOCS  PAPERS  OV 

advancing  to  Mr.  Winkle,  and  speakitjg  in  a  low  confidential  tone. 
*'  Rum  fellow — docs  the  heavy  business — no  actor — strange  man — all 
Rorts  of  miseries — dismal  Jemmy,  we  call  him  on  the  circuit."  Mr. 
Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  politely  welcomed  the  gentleman  elegantly 
desiffnated  as  "  Dismal  Jemmy  ;"  and  calling  for  brandy  and  water,  in 
imitation  of  the  remainder  of  the  company,  seated  themselves  at  the 
table. 

«'  Now,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  will  you  oblige  us  with  proceed- 
ing wiih  what  you  were  going  to  relate  1" 

The  dismal  individual  took  a  dirty  roll  of  paper  from  his  pocket,  and 
turning  to  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  had  just  taken  out  his  note-book,  said 
in  a  hollow  voice,  perfectly  in  keeping  with  his  outward  man — "Are 
you  the  poet  ]" 

"  I — I  do  a  little  in  that  way,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass,  rather  taken 
aback  by  the  abruptness  of  the  question. 

"  Ah !  poetry  makes  life,  what  lights  and  music  do  the  stage.  Strip 
the  one  of  its  false  embellishments,  and  the  other  of  its  illusions,  and 
what  is  there  real  in  either,  to  live  or  care  forV 

"  Very  true,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

«'  To  be  before  the  footlights,"  continued  the  dismal  man,  "  is  like 
sitting  at  a  grand  court  show,  and  admiring  the  silken  dresses  of  the 
gaudy  throng — to  be  behind  them,  is  to  be  the  people  who  make  that 
rinery,  uncared  for  and  unknowTi,  and  left  to  sink  or  swim,  to  starve  or 
Uve,  as  fortune  wills  it." 

**  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass  :  for  the  sunken  eye  of  the  dismal 
man  rested  on  him,  and  he  felt  it  necessary  to  say  something. 

♦'  Go  on  Jemmy,"  said  the  Spanish  traveller,  •'  like  black-eyed  Susan 
— all  in  the  Downs — no  croaking,  speak  out — look  lively." 

"  Will  you  take  another  glass  before  you  begin,  sir  V  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

The  dismal  man  took  the  hint,  and  having  mixed  a  glass  of  brandy 
and  water,  and  slowly  swallowed  half  of  it,  opened  the  roll  of  paper 
and  proceeded  partly  to  read  and  partly  to  relate  the  following  incident, 
which  we  find  recorded  on  the  Transactions  of  the  Club,  as  "  The 
Stroller's  Tale." 

"  There  is  nothing  of  the  marvellous  in  what  I  am  going  to  relate,'* 
said  the  dismal  man  ;  "  there  is  nothing  even  uncommon  in  it.  Want 
and  sickness  are  too  common  in  many  stations  of  life,  to  deserve  more 
notice  than  is  usually  bestowed  on  the  most  ordinary  vicissitudes  of 
human  nature.  I  have  thrown  these  few  notes  together,  because  the 
subject  of  them  was  well  knovm  to  me  for  many  years.  I  traced  his 
progress  downward,  step  by  step,  until  at  last  he  reached  that  excess 
of  destitution  from  which  he  never  rose  again. 

**  The  man  of  whom  I  speak  was  a  low  pantomime  actor ;  and,  like 
many  people  of  his  class,  an  habitual  drunkard.  In  his  better  days, 
before  he  had  become  enfeebled  by  dissipation  and  emaciated  by  disease, 
he  had  been  in  the  receipt  of  a  good  salary,  which,  if  he  had  been  careful 
and  prudent,  he  might  have  continued  to  receive  for  some  years — not 
many ;  because  these  men  either  die  early,  or,  by  unnaturally  taxing 
their  bodily  energies,  lose  prematurely  those  physical  powers  on  which 
alone  they  can  depend  for  subsistence.  His  besetting  sin  gained  so 
fast  upon  him,  however,  that  it  was  found  impossible  to  employ  him  in 
the  situations  in  which  he  really  was  useful  to  the  theatre.  The  pub- 
lic-house had  a  fascination  for  him  which  he  could  not  resist.    Neglected 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  37 

disease  and  hopeless  poverty  were  as  certain  to  be  his  portion  as  death 
itself,  if  he  persevered  in  the  same  course  ;  yet  he  did  persevere,  and 
the  result  may  be  guessed.  He  could  obtain  ne  engagement,  and  he 
wanted  bread. 

"  Every  body  who  is  at  all  acquainted  with  theatrical  matter?,  knows 
what  a  host  of  shabby,  poverty-stricken  men,  hang  about  ihe  stacje  of  a 
large  establishment — nut  regularly  engaged  actors,  but  ballet  people, 
procession  men,  tumblers,  and  so  forth,  who  arc  taken  on  during  the 
run  of  a  pantomime,  or  an  Easter  piece,  and  are  then  discharge/J,  until 
the  production  of  some  heavy  spectacle  occasions  a  new  demand  for 
their  services.  To  this  mode  of  life  the  man  was  compelled  to  resort ; 
and  taking  the  chair  every  night,  at  some  low  theatrical  house,  at  once 
put  him  in  possession  of  a  few  more  shillings  weekl}-,  and  enabled  him 
to  gratify  his  old  propensity.  Even  this  resource  shortly  failed  him  ; 
his  irregularities  were  too  great  to  admit  of  his  earning  the  wretched 
pittance  he  might  thus  have  procured,  arsd  he  was  actually  reduced  to 
a  state  bordering  on  starvation,  only  procuring  a  trifle  occasionally  by 
borrowing  it  of  some  old  companion,  or  by  obtaining  an  appearance  at 
one  or  other  of  the  commonest  of  the  minor  theatres  ;  and  when  he 
did  earn  any  thing,  it  was  spent  in  the  old  way. 

•'  About  this  time,  and  when  he  had  been  existing  for  upwards  of  a 
year  no  one  knew  how,  1  had  a  short  cn2agcment  at  one  of  the  thea- 
tres on  the  Surrey  side  of  the  water,  and  here  I  saw  this  man,  whom 
I  had  lost  sight  of  for  some  time  ;  for  I  had  been  travflling  in  the  pro- 
vinces, and  he  had  been  skulking  in  the  lanes  and  alleys  of  London.  I 
was  dressed  to  leave  the  house,  and  was  crossing  the  stage  on  my  wav 
out,  when  he  tapped  me  on  the  shoulder.  Never  shall  I  forget  the 
repulsive  sight  that  met  my  eye  when  I  turned  round.  He.  was  dressed 
for  the  pantomime,  in  all  the  absurdity  of  a  clown's  costume.  The 
spectral  figures  in  the  Dance  of  Death,  the  most  frightful  shapes  that 
the  ablest  painter  ever  portrayed  on  canvass,  never  pre.sented  an  appear- 
ance half  80  ghastly.  His  bloated  body  and  shrunken  legs — their  de- 
formity enhanced  a  hundred  fold  by  the  fantastic  dress — the  glassy  eyes, 
contrasting  fearfully  with  the  thick  white  paint  with  which  the  face 
vras  besmeared ;  the  grotesquely-ornamented  head,  trembling  with 
paralysis,  and  the  long  skinny  hands,  rubbed  with  white  chalk — all 
gave  him  a  hideous  and  unnatural  appearance,  of  which  no  description 
could  convey  an  eulequate  idea,  and  which,  to  this  day,  I  shudder  to 
think  of.  His  voice  was  hollow  and  tremulous,  as  he  took  me  aside, 
and  in  broken  words  recounted  a  long  catalogue  of  sickness  and  priva- 
tions, terminating,  as  usual,  w  ith  an  urgent  request  for  the  loan  of  a 
trifling  sum  of  money.  I  put  a  few  shillings  in  his  hand,  and,  as  I 
turned  away,  I  heard  the  roar  of  laughter  which  followed  his  first  tum- 
ble on  to  the  stage. 

"  A  few  nights  afterwards,  a  boy  put  a  dirty  scrap  of  paper  in  my 
hand,  on  which  were  scrawled  a  few  words  in  y)cncil,  intimating  that 
the  man  was  dangerously  ill,  and  begging  me,  after  the  performance,  to 
see  him  at  his  lodgings  in  some  street — I  forget  the  name  of  it  now — 
at  no  great  distance  from  the  theatre.  I  promised  to  comply,  as  soon 
as  I  could  get  away  ;  and  after  the  curtaui  fell,  saUied  forth  on  my 
melancholy  errand. 

»•  It  was  late,  for  I  had  been  playing  in  the  last  piece  ;  and,  as  it  was 
a  benefit  night,  the  performances  had  been  protracted  to  an  unusual 
length.     It  was  a  dark  cold  night,  with  a  chill  damp  wind,  which  blew 
Vol.  I. — i 


38  POSTHUMOUS  papers  of 

the  rain  heavily  against  the  window*  and  house  fronts.  Pools  of  water 
had  collected  in  the  narrow  and  little  frequented  streets,  and  as  many 
of  the  thinly-scattered  oil-lamps  had  been  blown  out  by  the  violence  of 
the  wind,  the  walk  was  not  only  a  comfortless,  but  most  uncertain  one. 
I  had  fortunately  taken  the  right  course,  however,  and  succeeded,  after 
a  little  difliculty,  in  finding  the  house  to  whijch  I  had  been  directed — a 
coal  shed,  with  one  story  above  it,  in  the  back  room  of  which  lay  the 
object  of  my  search. 

"  A  wretched-looking  woman,  the  man's  wife,  met  me  on  the  stairs, 
and  telling  me  that  he  had  just  fallen  into  a  kind  of  doze,  led  me  softly 
in,  and  placed  a  chair  for  me  at  the  bed-side.  The  sick  man  was  lying 
with  his  face  turned  towards  the  wall ;  and  as  he  took  no  heed  of  my 
presence,  I  had  leisure  to  observe  the  place  in  which  I  found  myself 

"  He  was  lying  on  an  old  bedstead,  which  turned  up  during  the  day. 
The  tattered  remains  of  a  checked  curtain  were  drawn  round  the  bed's 
head,  to  exclude  the  wind,  which  however  made  its  way  into  the  com- 
fortless room  through  the  numerous  chinks  in  the  door,  and  blew  it  to 
and  fro  every  instant.  There  was  a  low  cinder-fire  in  a  rusty  unfixed 
grate  ;  and  an  old  three-cornered  stained  table,  with  some  medicine- 
bottles,  a  broken-glass,  and  a  few  other  domestic  articles,  was  drawn 
out  before  it.  A  little  child  was  sleeping  on  a  temporary  bed  which 
had  been  made  for  it  on  the  floor,  and  the  woman  sat  on  a  chair  by  its 
side.  There  were  a  couple  of  shelves,  with  a  few  plates  and  cups  and 
saucers  :  and  a  pair  of  stage  shoes  and  a  couple  of  foils  hung  beneath 
them.  With  the  exception  of  little  heaps  of  rags  and  bundles  which 
had  been  carelessly  thrown  into  the  corners  of  the  room,  these  were 
the  only  things  in  the  a[)artment. 

'*  I  had  had  time  to  note  these  little  particulars,  and  to  mark  the 
heavy  breathing  and  feverish  startings  of  the  sick  man,  before  he  was 
aware  of  my  presence.  In  his  restless  attempts  to  procure  some  easy 
resting-place  for  his  head,  he  tossed  his  hand  out  of  the  bed,  and  it  fell 
on  mine.     He  started  up,  and  stared  eagerly  in  my  face. 

" '  Mr.  Hutley,  John,'  said  his  wife  ;  '  Mr.  Hutley,  that  you  sent 
for  to-night,  you  know.' 

"'Ah!'  said  the  invalid,  passing  his  hand  across  his  forehead  ; 
*  Hutley — Hutley — let  me  see.'  He  seemed  endeavouring  to  collect 
his  thoughts  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  grasping  me  tightly  by  the 
wrist,  said,  •  Don't  leave  me — don't  leave  me,  old  fellow.  She'll 
murder  me  ;  I  know  she  will.' 

" '  Has  he  been  long  so  V  said  I,  addressing  his  weeping  wife. 

"  *  Since  yesterday  night,'  she  replied.  '  John,  John,  don't  you 
know  me  1 ' 

•'  *  Don't  let  her  come  near  me,'  said  the  man,  with  a  shudder,  as 
she  stooped  over  him.  *  Drive  her  away  ;  I  can't  bear  her  near  me.' 
He  stared  wildly  at  her,  with  a  look  of  deadly  apprehension,  and  then 
whispered  in  my  ear,  ♦  I  beat  her,  Jem  ;  I  beat  her  yesterday  and 
many  times  before.  I  have  starved  her,  and  the  boy  too  ;  and  now  I 
am  weak  and  helpless,  Jem,  she'll  murder  me  for  it ;  I  know  she  will. 
If  you'd  seen  her  cry,  as  I  have,  you'd  know  it  too.  Keep  her  oft".' 
He  relaxed  his  grasp,  and  sunk  back  exhausted  on  his  pillow. 

'♦I  knew  but  too  well  what  all  this  meant.  If  I  could  have  enter- 
tained any  doubt  of  it  for  one  instant,  one  glance  at  the  woman's  pale 
face  and  wasted  form  would  have  sufficiently  explained  the  real  state 
of  the  case.     '  You  had  better  stand  aside,'  said  I  to  the  poor  creature. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  3S 

*  You  can  do  him  no  good.  Perhaps  he  will  be  calmer,  if  he  does  not 
see  you.'  She  retired  out  of  the  man's  sight.  He  opened  his  eyes, 
after  a  few  seconds,  and  looked  anxiously  round. 

"  ♦  Is  she  gone  !'  he  eagerly  inquired. 

"  '  Yes — yes,'  said  I ;  'she  shall  not  hurt  you.' 

<"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Jem,'  said  the  man,  in  a  low  voice,  '  she  does 
hurt  me.  There's  something  in  her  eyes  wakes  such  a  dreadful  fear 
in  my  heart,  that  it  drives  me  mad.  All  last  night,  her  large  staring 
eyes  and  pale  face  were  close  to  mine  ;  wherever  I  turned,  they  turned  ; 
and  whenever  I  started  up  from  my  sleep,  she  was  at  the  bed-side 
looking  at  me.'  He  drew  me  closer  to  him,  as  he  said  in  a  deep, 
alarmed  whisper — '  Jem,  she  must  be  an  evil  spirit — a  devil  !  Hush  ! 
I  know  she  is.  I  know  she  is.  If  she  had  been  a  woman,  she  would 
have  died  long  ago.     No  woman  could  have  borne  what  she  has.' 

"  I  sickened  at  the  thought  of  the  long  course  of  cruelty  and  neglect 
which  must  have  occurred  to  produce  such  an  impression  on  such  a 
man.  I  could  say  nothing  in  reply  ;  for  who  could  offer  hope,  or  con- 
solation, to  the  abject  being  before  rae  ! 

"  I  sat  there  fur  upwards  of  two  hours,  during  which  time  he  tossed 
about,  murmuring  exclamations  of  pain  or  impatience,  restlessly 
throwing  his  arms  here  and  there,  turning  constantly  from  side  to  side. 
At  length  he  fell  into  that  state  of  partial  unconsciousness,  in  which 
the  mind  wanders  uneasily  from  scene  to  scene,  and  from  place  to 
place,  without  the  control  of  reason,  but  still  without  being  able  to 
divest  itself  of  an  indescrionble  scene  of  present  suffering.  Finding 
from  his  incoherent  wanderings  that  this  was  the  case,  and  knowing 
that  in  all  probability  the  fever  would  not  grow  immediately  worse,  I 
left  him,  promising  his  miserai)le  wife  that  1  would  repeat  my  visit 
next  evening,  and.  if  necessary,  sit  up  with  the  patient  during  the  night. 

"  I  kept  my  promise.  The  last  four-and-twcnty  hours  had  produced 
a  frightful  alteration.  The  eyes,  though  deeply  sunk  and  heavy,  shone 
with  a  lustre  frightful  to  behold.  The  lips  were  parched,  and  cracked 
in  many  places  :  the  dry  hard  skin  glowed  with  a  burning  heat,  and 
there  was  an  almost  unearthly  air  of  wild  anxiety  in  the  man's  face, 
indicating  even  more  strongly  the  ravages  of  the  disease.  The  fever 
was  at  its  height. 

"  I  took  the  seat  I  had  occupied  the  night  before,  and  there  I  sat  for 
hours,  listening  to  sounds  which  must  strike  deep  to  the  heart  of  the 
most  callous  among  human  beings — the  awful  ravings  of  a  dying  man. 
From  what  I  had  heard  of  the  medical  attendant's  opinion,  I  knew 
there  was  no  hope  for  him  :  I  was  sitting  by  his  death-bed.  I  saw  the 
wasted  limbs,  which  a  few  hours  before  had  been  distorted  fur  the 
amusement  of  a  boisterous  gallery,  writhing  under  the  tortures  of  a 
burning  fever — I  heard  the  clown's  shrill  laugh,  blending  with  the  low 
murmurings  of  the  dying  man. 

"  It  is  a  touching  thing  to  hear  the  mind  reverting  to  the  ordinary 
occupations  and  pursuits  of  health,  when  the  body  lies  before  you  weak 
and  helpless  ;  but  when  those  occupations  are  of  a  character  the  most 
strongly  opposed  to  any  thing  we  associate  with  grave  or  solemn  ideas, 
the  iinpreai^ion  produced  is  infinitely  more  powerful.  The  theatre, 
and  the  public-houses  were  the  chief  themes  of  the  wretched  man's 
wanderings.  It  was  evening,  he  fancied  ;  he  had  a  part  to  play  that 
night ;  it  was  late,  and  he  must  leave  home  instantly.  Why  did 
they  hold  him,  and  prevent  his  going— he  should  lose  the  money — he 


40  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS  OF 

roust  go  !  No  f  they  would  not  let  him.  He  hid  his  fece  in  his  burn- 
ing hands,  and  feebly  bemoaned  his  own  weakness,  and  the  cruehy  «rf 
his  persecutors.  A  short  pause,  and  he  shouted  out  a  few  doggerel 
rhymes — the  last  he  had  ever  learned.  He  rose  in  bed,  drew  up  his 
\vithered  limbs,  qnd  rolled  about  in  uncouih  positions  ;  he  was  acting 
— he  was  at  the  theatre.  A  minute's  silence,  and  he  murroured  the 
burden  of  some  roaring  song.  He  had  reached  the  old  house  at  last; 
how  hot  the  room  wag.  He  had  been  ill,  very  ill ;  but  he  was  wdl 
now,  and  happy.  Fill  up  his  glass.  Who  was  that,  that  daslied  it 
from  his  lips  ?  It  wa.s  the  same  persecutor  that  had  followed  him  be- 
fore. He  fell  back  -ipon  his  pillow,  and  moaned  aloud.^  A  short  period 
of  oblivion,  and  he  was  wandering  through  a  tedious  maze  of  low  arched 
room.s — so  low,  sometimes,  that  he  must  creep  upon  his  hands  an^d 
knees  to  make  his  way  along ;  it  w^as  close  and  dark — and  every  way 
he  turned,  some  obstacle  impeded  his  progress.  There  were  insect.s 
too  :  hideous  crawling  things,  with  eyes  that  stared  upon  him,  and 
filled  the  very  air  around  :  glistening  horribly  amidst  the  thk-.k  dark- 
ness of  the  place.  The  walls  and  ceiling  were  alive  with  reptiles — tl»e 
vault  expanded  to  an  enormous  size — frightful  figures  flitted  to  and 
fro — and  the  faces  of  men  he  knew,  rendered  hideous  by  gibing  and 
mouthing,  peered  out  from  among  them  :  they  were  searing  him  with 
heated  irons,  and  binding  his  head  with  cords  till-  the  blood  started ; 
and  he  struggled  uiadly  fur  life. 

"  At  the  close  of  one  of  these  paroxysms,  when  I  had  with  great 
difficulty  held  him  down  in  his  bed,  he  sank  into  what  appeared  to  be  a 
slumber.  Overpowered  with  watching  and  exertion,  I  had  closed  my 
eyes  for  a  few  mijiutes,  when  I  felt  a  violent  clutch  on  my  shoulder. 
I  awoke  instantly.  He  had  raised  himself  up,  so  as  to  seat  himself  in 
bed — a  dreadful  change  had  come  over  his  face,  but  consciousness  had 
returned,  for  he  evidently  knew  me.  The  child,  who  had  been  long 
since  disturbed  by  his  ravings,  rose  from  its  little  bed,  and  ran  towards 
its  father,  screaminor  vvith  fright — the  mother  hastily  caught  it  in  her 
asms,  lest  he  should  injure  it  in  the  violence  of  his  insanity  ;  but, 
terrified  by  the  alteration  iff  his  features,  stood  transfixed  by  the  bed- 
side. He  grasped  my  shoulder  convulsive!}' ;  and  striking  his  breast 
■with  the  other  hand,  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  articulate.  It  was 
tmavailing  ;  he  extended  his  arm  towards  them,  and  made  another 
violent  effort.  There  was  a  rattling  noise  in  the  throat — a  glare  of 
the  eye — a  short  stifled  groan — and  he  fell  back — dead  !" 


It  would  aflford  us  the  highest  gratification  to  be  enabled  to  record 
Mr.  Pickwick's  opinion  of  the  foregoing  anecdote.  We  have  little 
doubt  that  we  should  have  been  enabled  to  present  it  to  our  readers, 
but  for  a  most  unfortunate  occurrence. 

]\Ir.  Pickwick  had  replaced  on~the  table  the  glass  which,  durint:  the 
last  fcv;^  sentences  of  the  tale,  he  had  retained  in  his  hand ;  and  had 
just  made  up  his  mind  to  speak — indeed  we  have  the  authority  of  Mr. 
Snodi^rass's  note-book  for  stating  that  he.  had  actually  opened  his 
mouth — when  the  waiter  entered  the  room,  and  said — 

"  Some  gentlemen,  sir." 

It  has  been  conjectured  that  Mr.  Pickwick  was  on  the  point  of  de- 
livering some  remarks  which  would  have  enlightened  the  world,  if  not 
the  Tliames,  when  he  was  thus  interrupted  :  for  he  gazed  sternly  on 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  41 

the  waiter's  countenance,  and  then  looked  round  on  the  company  gen- 
erally, as  if  seeking  for  information  relative  to  the  new  comers. 

"  Oh  I"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  rising,  "  some  friends  of  mine — show  them 
in.  Very  pleasant  fellows,"  added  Mr.  Winkle,  after  the  waiter  had 
retired — '*  Officers  of  the  97th,  whose  acquaintance  I  made  rather  oddly 
this  morning.     You  will  like  them  very  much." 

Mr.  Pickwick's  equanimity  was  at  once  restored.  The  waiter 
returned,  and  u.sheretl  three  gentlemen  into  the  room. 

"Lieutenant  Tappleton,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  "Lieutenant  Tapple- 
ton,  Mr.  Pickwick — Doctor  Payne,  Mr.  Pickwick — Mr.  Siiodgrass, 
you  have  seen  before  :  my  friend  Mr.  Tupman,  Doctor  Payne — Doctor 
Slammer,  Mr.  Pickwick — .Mr.  Tupman,  Doctor  Slam " 

Here  Mr.  Winkle  suddenly  paused  ;  for  strong  emotion  was  visible 
,on  the  countenance  both  of  Mr.  Tupman  and  the  dt»ctor. 

"  I  have  met  this  gentleman  before,"  said  the  doctor  with  marked 
emphasis. 

"  Indeed  !''  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  And — and  that  person,  too,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,"  said  the  Doctor, 
bestowing  a  scrutinizing  glance  on  the  green-coated  stranger.  "  I 
think  I  gave  that  person  a  very  pressing  invitation  last  night,  which  he 
thought  proper  to  decline."  Saying  which,  the  doctor  scowled 
magnanimously  on  the  stranger,  and  whispered  liis  friend  Lieutenant 
Tappleton. 

♦'  You  don't  say  so,"  said  that  gentleman,  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
whisper. 

'*  I  do,  indeed,"  replied  Doctor  Slammer. 

"  You  are  bound  to  kick  him  on  the  spot,"  murmured  the  owner  of 
the  camp-stool,  with  great  importance. 

"Do  be  quiet,  Payne,"  interposed  the  lieutenant.  "Will  you  allow 
me  to  ask  you,  sir,"  he  said,  addressing  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  con- 
siderably mystified  by  this  very  unpolite  by-play — "  Will  you  allow  me 
to  ask  you,  sir,  whether  that  person  belongs  to  your  party  ]" 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwitk,  "  he  is  a  guest  of  ours." 

"  He  is  a  member  of  your  club,  or  I  am  mistaken  1"  said  the  lieu- 
tenant inquiringly. 

"  Certainly  not,"  responded  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  And  never  wears  your  club-buttons  :"  said  the  lieutenant. 

"  No — never  I"  replied  the  astonished  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Lieutenant  Tappleton  turned  round  to  his  frie-nd  Doctor  Slammer, 
with  a  scarcely  perceptible  shrug  of  the  shoulder,  as  if  implying  sojne 
doubt  of  the  accuracy  of  his  recollection.  The  little  doctor  looked 
wrathful,  but  confounded  ;  and  Mr.  Payne  gazed  with  a  ferocious 
aspect  on  the  beaming  countenance  of  the  unconscious  Pickwick. 

"  Sir."  said  the  doctor,  suddenly  addressing  Mr.  Tupman,  in  a  tone 
which  made  that  gentleman  start  as  pprceptibly  as  if  a  pin  had  been 
cimningly  inserted  into  the  calf  of  his  leg — "you  were  at  the  ball  here 
last  niiiht  1" 

Mr.  Tupman  gasped  a  faint  affirmative  ;  looking  very  hard  at  Mr. 
Pickwick  all  the  while. 

'■  That  person  was  your  companion,"  said  the  doctor,  pointing  to  the 
still  unmoved  stranger. 

Mr.  Tupman  admitted  the  fact. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  the  doctor  to  the  stranger,  "  I  ask  you  once  again 
in  the  presence  cf  these  gentlemen,  whether  you  choose  to  give  me 
4* 


42  posTHUMons  papers  or 

yonr  card,  and  to  receive  the  treatment  of  a  gentleman  ;  or  whether  you 
impose  upon  me  the  necessity  of  personally  chastising  you  on  the  spot  I 

"  Stay,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  *'  really  I  cannot  allow  this  matter 
to  go  any  further  without  sOme  explanation.  Tupman,  recount  the 
circumstances." 

Mr.  Tupman,  thus  solemnly  adjured,  stated  the  case  in  a  few  words; 
touched  sliglitly  on  the  horrowing  of  the  coat ;  expatiated  largely  on 
its  Having  been  done  "  after  dinner  ;"  wound  up- with  a  little  penitence 
on  his  own  account ;  and  left  the  stranger  to  clear  himself  as  he  best 
could. 

He  was  apparently  about  to  proceed  to  do  so  when  Lieutenant  Tap- 
pleton,  who  had  been  eying  him  with  great  curiosity,  said  with  consi- 
derable scorn — "  Haven't  I  seen  you  at  the  theatre,  sirV 

"  Certainly,'"  replied  the  unabashed  stranger.  # 

"He  is  a  strolling  actor,"  said  the  lieutenant,  contemptuously  :  turn- 
ing to  Dr.  Slammer — "  He  acts  in  the  piece  that  the  officers  of  the 
62d  get  up  'at  the  Rochester  theatre  to-morrow  night.  You  cannot 
proceed  in  this  alfair,  Slammer — impossible!" 

"  Quite  !"  said  the  dignified  Payne. 

'*  Sorry  to  have  placed  you  in  this  disagreeable  situation,"  said  Lieu- 
tenant Tappleton,  addressing  Mr.  Pickwick :  "  allow  me  to  suggest, 
that  the  best  way  of  aroiding  a  recurrence  of  such  scenes  in  future, 
will  be  to  be  more  select  in  the  choice  of  your  companions.  Good 
evening,  sir  !"  and  the  lieutenant  bounced  out  of  the  room. 

"  And  allow  me  to  say,  sir,"  said  the  irascible  Doctor  Payne,  '*  that 
if  I  had  been  Tappleton,  or  if  I  had  been  Slammer,  I  would  have  pulled 
your  nose,  sir,  and  the  nose  of  every  man  in  this  company.  I  would, 
sir — every  man.  Payne  is  my  name  sir, — Doctor  Payne  of  the  43d. 
Good  evening,  sir."  Having  concluded  this  speech,  and  uttered  the 
three  last  words  in  a  loud  k'^y,  he  stalked  majestically  after  his  friend, 
closely  followed  by  Doctor  Slammer,  who  said  nothiiig,  but  contented 
himself  by  withering  the  company  with  a  look. 

V  Rising  rage  and  extreme  bewildefment  had  swelled  the  noble  breast 
of  Mr.  Pickwick,  almost  to  the  bursting  of  his  waistcoat,  during  the 
deliver}'  of  the  above  defiance.  He  stood  transfixed  to  the  spot,  gazing 
on  vacancy.  The  closing  of  the  door  recalled  him  to  himself  He 
'^rushed  forward  with  fury  in  his  looks,  and  fire  in  his  eyes.  His  hand 
was  upon  the  lock  of  the  door  ;  in  another  instant  it  would  have  been 
on  the  throat  of  Dcotor  Payne  of  the  43d,  had  not  Mr.  Snodgrass  seized 
his  revered  leader  by  the  coat  tail,  and  dragged  him  backwards. 

"  Restrain  him,""  cried  Mr.  Snodgrass,  ♦'  Winkle,  Tupman — he  must 
not  peril  his  distinguished  life  in  such  a  cause  as  this." 

"  Let  me  go,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Hold  him  tight."  shouted  Mr.  vSnodgrass  ;  and  by  the  united  efforts 
of  the  whole  company,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  forced  into  an  arm-chair. 

"Leave  him  alone,"  said  the  green-coated  stranger —''brandy  and 
water — jolly  old  gentleman — lots  of  pluck — swallow  this — ah  ! — capital 
stuff."  Having  previously  tested  the  virtues  of  a  bumper,  which  had 
been  mixed  by  the  dismal  man,  the  stranger  applied  the  glass  to  Mr. 
Pickwick's  mouth  ;  and  the  remainder  of  its  contents  rapidly  disap- 
peared. 

There  was  a  short  pause  ;  the  brandy  and  water  had  done  its  work  ,- 
the  amiable  countenance  of  Mr.  Pickwick  was  fast  recovering  its  cus. 
tomary  expression. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  43 

"  They  are  not  worth  your  notice,'*  said  the  dismal  man. 

•'  You  are  right,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  they  are  not.  I  am 
ashamed  to  have  been  betrayed  into  this  warmth  of  feeling.  Draw 
your  chair  up  to  the  table,  sir." 

The  dismal  man  readily  complied  ;  a  circle  was  aj^ain  formed  around 
the  table,  and  harmony  once  more  prevailed.  Some  lingering  irritability 
appeared  to  find  a  resting  place  in  Mr.  Wince's  bosom,  occasioned 
possibly  by  the  temporary  abstraction  of  his  coat — though  it  is  scarcely 
reasonable  to  suppose,  that  so  slight  a  circumstance  can  have  excited 
even  a  passing  feeling  of  anger  in  a  Pickwickian  breast.  With  thii* 
exception,  their  good  humour  was  completely  restored  ;  and  the  even- 
ing concluded  with  the  convWiality  with  which  it  had  begun. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  FIELD-DAT  AN&   OTVOCAC MORE     IfEW    FRIENDS  ;    AND    AN    INVITATION 

TO  THE  COUNTRY. 

Manv  authors  entertain,  not  only  a  foorish,  but  a  really  dishonest 
objection,  to  acknowledge  the  sources  from  whence  they  derive  much 
valuable  information.  We  have  no  such  feehng.  We  are  merely 
endeavouring  to  discharge  in  an  upright  manner,  the  resiionsible  duties 
of  our  editorial  functions  ;  and  whatever  ambition  we  might  have  feh 
under  other  circumstances,  to  lay  claim  to  the  authorship  of  these 
adventures,  a  regard  for  truth  forbids  us  lo  do  more  than  claim  the 
merit  of  their  judicious  arrangement,  and  impartial  narration.  The 
Pickwick  papers  are  our  New  Hiver  Head  ;  and  we  may  be  compared 
to  the  New  River  Company.  The  labours  of  others  have  raised  for 
us  an  immense  reservoir  of  important  facts.  We  merely  lay  them  or?, 
and  communicate  them  in  a  clear  and  gentle  stream,  through  llie  medium 
of  these  numbers,  to  a  world  thirsting  for  Pickwickian  knowledge. 

Acting  in  this  spirit,  and  resolutely  proceeding  on  our  determination 
to  avow  our  obligations  to  the  authorities  we  have  consulted,  we 
frankly  say,  that  to  the  note-book  of  Mr.  Snodgrass  are  wc  indebted 
for  the  particulars  recorded  in  this  and  the  succeeding  chapter — par- 
ticulars, which,  now  that  we  have  disburdened  our  conscience,  we 
shall  proceed  to  detail  without  farther  comment. 

The  whole  population  of  Rochester,  and  the  adjoining  towns,  rose 
from  their  beds  at  an  early  hour  of  the  following  morning,  in  a  state  o( 
the  utmost  bustle  and  excitement.  A  erand  review  wa.'^  to  take  place 
upon  the  line.=  .  The  manoeuvres  of  half-a-dozen  regiments  were  to  be 
inspected  bv  the  eagle  eye  of  the  commander-in-chief;  temporary  for- 
tifications had  been  erec'.ed,  the  citadel  was  to  be  attacked  and  taken, 
and  a  mine  was'to  be  sprung. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was,  as  our  readers  may  have  gathered  from  the  slight 
extract  we  gave  from  his  description  of  Chatham,  an  enthiisiasiic 
admirer  of  the  army.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  deliL'htful  to  him 
— nothing  could  have  harmonized  so  well  with  the  peculiar  feeling  of 
each  of  his  companions — as  this  sight.  Acconlingly  they  were  soon 
a-foot,  and  walking  in  the  direction  of  the  scene  of  action,  towards 


44  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

which  crowds  of  people  were  already  pouring,  from  a  variety  of 
quarters. 

The  appearance  of  every  thing  on  the  lines  denoted  that  the  ap- 
proaching ceremony  was  one  of  ihe  utmost  grandeur  and  importance. 
There  were  sentries  posted  to  keep  the  ground  for  the  troops,  and 
servants  on  the  batterits  keeping  places  for  the  ladies,  and  sergeants 
running  to  and  fro,  with  vellum-covered  books  under  their  arms,  and 
Colonel  Bulder,  in  full  military  unifomi,  on  horseback,  galloping  first 
to  one  place  and  then  to  another,  and  backing  his  horse  among  the 
people,  and  prancing  and  curvetting  and  shouting  in  a  most  alarming 
manner,  and  making  himself  very  hoarse  in  the  voice  and  very  red  in 
the  face,  without  any  assignable  cause  or  reason  whatever.  Officers 
were  running  backwards  and  forwards,  first  communicating  with  Colo- 
nel Bulder,  and  then  ordering  the  sergeants,  and  then  running  away 
altogether  :  and  even  the  very  privates  themselves  looked  from  behind 
their  glazed  stocks  with  an  air  of  mysterious  solemnity,  which  suffi- 
ciently bespoke  the  special  nature  of  the  occasion. 

Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  three  companions  stationed  themselves  in  the 
front  rank  of  the  crowd,  and  patiently  awaited  the  commencement  of 
the  proceedings.  The  throng  was  iiicreasing  every  moment  ;  and  the 
efforts  they  were  compelled  to  make,  to  retain  the  position  they  had 
gained,  sufficiently  occupied  their  attention  during  the  two  hours  that 
ensued.  At  one  time  there  was  a  sudden  pressure  from  behind  ;  and 
then  Mr.  Pickwick  was  jerked  forward  for  several  yards,  with  a  degree 
of  speed  and  elasticity  highly  inconsistent  with  the  general  gravity  of 
his  demeanour;  at  anothpr  moment  there  was  a  request  to  "  keep  back" 
from  the  front,  and  then  the  butt  end  of  a  musket  was  either  dropped 
upon  Mr.  Pickwick's  toe,  to  remind  hii;i  of  the  demand,  or  thrust  into 
his  chest  to  ensure  its  being  complied  with.  Then  some  facetious  gen- 
tlemen on  the  left,  after  pressing  sideways  in  a  body,  and  squeezing 
Mr.  Snodgrass  into  the  very  last  extreme  of  human  torture,  would 
request  to  know  "  vere  he  vos  a  shovin'  to,"  and  when  Mr.  Winkle  had 
done  expre.*ising  his  excessive  indignation  at  witnessing  this  unpro- 
voked assault,  some  person  behind  would  knock  his  hat  over  his  eyes, 
and  beg  the  favour  of  his  putting  his  head  in  his  pocket.  These,  and 
other  practical  witticisms,  coupled  with  the  unaccountable  absence  of 
Mr.  Tupman  (who  had  suddenly  disappeared,  and  was  nowhere  to  be 
found,)  rendered  their  i?ituation  upon  the  whole  rather  more  uncomfort- 
able than  pleasing  or  desirable. 

At  length  that  low  roar  of  many  voices  ran  through  the  crowd,  which 
usually  announces  the  arrival  of  whatever  they  have  been  vi-aiting  for. 
All  eyes  were  turned  in  the  direction  of  the  sallyport.  A  few  moments 
of  eager  expectation,  and  colours  were  seen  fluttering  gaily  in  the  air, 
arms  glistened  brightly  in  the  sun  :  column  after  column  poured  on  to 
the  plain.  The  troops  halted  and  formed  ;  the  word  of  command  rung 
through  the  line,  there  was  a  general  clash  of  muskets,  as  arms  were 
presented  ;  and  the  commander-in-chief,  attended  by  Colonel  Bulder 
and  numerous  officers,  cantered  to  the  front.  The  military  bands  struck 
up  all  together  :  the  horses  stood  upon  two  legs  each,  cantered  back- 
wards, and  wh.sked  their  tails  about  in  all  directions :  the  dogs  barked, 
the  mob  screamed,  the  troops  recovered,  and  nothing  was  to  be  seen  on 
either  side,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  but  a  long  perspective  of  red 
coats  and  white  trousers,  fixed  and  motionless. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  becji  so  fully  occupied  in  falling  about,  and  dis- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  45 

entangling  himself,  miraculously,  from  between  the  leers  of  horses,  that 
he  had  not  enjoyed  sufficient  leisure  to  observe  the  scene  beibre  him, 
until  it  assumed  the  appearance  we  have  just  described.  When  he 
was  at  last  enabled  to  stand  firmly  on  his  l^s,  liis  gratification  and 
delight  were  unbounded. 

"Can  any  thing  be  finer,  or  more  delightful  V  he  inquired  of  Mr. 
Winkle. 

"  Nothing,"  replied  that  gentleman,  who  had  had  a  short  man 
standing  oi^  each  of  his  feet,  for  the  quarter  of  an  hour  immediately 
preceding. 

"  It  is  indeed  a  noble  and  a  brilliant  sight,'"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  in 
whose  bosom  a  blaze  of  poetry  was  rapidly  bursting  forth,  "  to  see  the 
pliant  defenders  of  their  country,  drawn  up  in  brilliant  array  before  its 
peaceful  citizens  :  their  faces  beaming — not  with  warlike  ferocity,  but 
wilh  civilized  gentleness  :  their  eyes  flashing — not  with  the  rude  fire 
of  rapine  or  revenge,  but  with  the  soft  light  of  humanity  and  intelli- 
gence."' 

Mr.  Pickwick  fully  entered  into  the  spirii  of  this  eulogtum.  but  he 
could  not  exactly  re-echo  its  terms  ;  for  the  soft  light  of  inteliiijence 
burnt  rather  feebly  in  the  ey'^s  of  the  warriors,  inasmuch  as  the  com- 
mand "  eyes  front"  had  been  given  ;  and  all  the  spectator  saw  before 
Kim  wrt»  eevpra]  thousand  pair  of  optics,  starlngr  ctpaight  forward, 
"wholly  divested  of  any  e.\prt-»oiuii  whatuvcr. 

''  We  are  in  a  capital  situation/ now,'"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking 
round  him.  The  crowd  had  gradually  dispersed  from  their  immediate 
vicinity,  and  they  were  nearly  alone. 

*'  Capital  I"  echoed  both  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  What  are  they  doing  now  V  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  adjusting  his 
spectacles. 

"  I — I  rathei  thinlc,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  changing  colour — "  rather 
think  they"re  a-going  to  fire." 

"  Nonsense  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily. 

*'  I — I — really  think  they  are,"  urged  Mr.  Snodgrass,  somewhat 
alarmed.  ■ 

"  Impossible,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  had  hardly  uttered  the 
word,  when  the  whole  half  dozen  regiments  levelled  their  muskets  as 
if  they  had  but  one  common  object,  and  that  object  the  Pickwickians  ; 
and  burst  forth  with  the  most  awful  and  tremendous  discltarfe  that 
ever  shnok  the  earth  to  its  centre,  or  an  elderly  gentleman  off  his  feet. 

It  was  in  this  trj-ing  situation,  exposed  to  a  gallinsj  fire  of  blank 
cartridges,  and  harassed  by  the  operations  of  the  military,  a  fre.sh 
body  of  whom  had  begun  to  fall  in,  on  the  opposite  side,  that  .Mr.  Pick- 
wick displayed  that  perfect  coolnes.s,  and  self-possession,  which  are 
the  indispensable  accompaniments  of  a  great  mind.  He  seized  Mr. 
Winkle  by  the  arm.  and  placing  himself  between  that  gentleman  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  earnestly  besought  them  to  remember  that  beyond,  the 
possibility  of  being  rendered  deaf  by  the  noise,  there  was  no  immediate 
danger  to  be  apprehended  from  the  firing.  ^ 

"  But — but — supposa^  some  of  the  men  should  happen  to  hnve  ball 
cartridges  by  mistake,"  remonstrated  .Mr.  V^'inkle,  }»allid  at  the  suppo- 
sition he  was  himself  conjuring  up.  ♦'  I  heard  something  whistle 
though  the  air  just  now — so  sharp  ;  close  to  my  ear." 

"  We  had  bolter  throw  ourselves  on  our  faces,  hadn't  we  •"  said 
VI r.  Snodgrass. 


46  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS  OF 

"No,  no — it's  over  now,'  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  His  lips  might 
quiver,  and  his  cheek  might  blanch,  but  no  expression  of  fear  or  con- 
cern escaped  the  lips  of  that  immortal  man. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  ught ;  the  firing  ceased:  but  he  had  scarcely 
time  to  congratulate  hunself  on  the  accuracy  of  his  opinion,  when  a 
quick  movement  was  visible  in  the  line  :  the  hoarse  shout  of  the  word 
of  command  ran  along  it — and  before  either  of  the  party  could  form  a 
guess  at  the  meaning  of  this  new  manccuvre,  the  whole  of  the  half 
dozen  regiments,  with  fixed  bayonets,  charged  at  double^  quick  time 
down  upon  the  very  spot  on  which  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  were 
stationed. 

Man  is  bul  mortal ;  and  there  is  a  point  beyond  which  human 
courage  cannot  extend.  Mr.  Pickwick  gazed  through  his  spectacles 
for  an  instant  on  the  advancing  mass  ;  and  then  fairly  turned  his  back, 
and — we  will  not  say  fled  ;  first,  because  it  is  an  ignoble  term,  and 
secondly,  because  Mr.  Pickwick's  figure  was  by  no  means  adapted  for 
that  mode  of  retreat — he  trotted  away,  at  as  quick  a  rate  as  his  legs 
would  convey  him ;  so  quickly,  indeed,  that  he  did  not  perceive  the 
awkwardness  of  his  situation,  to  the  full  extent,  until  too  late. 

The  opposite  troops,  whose  falling  in  ftad  perplexed  Mr.  Pickwick  a 
few  seconds  before,  were  drawn  up  to  repel  the  mimic  attack  of  the 
sham  hesifigprs  of  the  citadel ;  and  the  consequence  was,  that  Mr 
Pickwick  and  his  two  companiono  found  thciuselves  suddenly  enclosed 
between  two  lines  of  great  lengtlj  ;  the  one  advancing  at  a  rapid  pace, 
and  the  other  firmly  waiting  the  collision  in  hostile  array. 

"  Hoi !"  shouted  the  officers  of  the  advancing  line. 

*»  Get  out  of  the  way  !"  cried  the  officers  of  the  stationary  one. 

*'  Where  are  we  to  go  to  ]"  screamed  the  agitated  Pickwickians. 

*'  Hoi — hoi — hoi,"  was  the  only  reply.  There  was  a  moment  of 
intense  bewilderment,  a  heavy  tramp  of  footsteps,  a  violent  concussion, 
a  smothered  laugh — the  half  dozen  regimeqts  were  half  a  thousand 
yards  oflf;  and  the  soles  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  boots  were  elevated  in 
the  air. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  had  each  performed  a  compulsory 
somerset  with  remarkable  agility,  when  the  first  object  that  met  the 
eyes  of  the  latter  as  he  sat  on  the  ground,  stanching  with  a  yellow  silk 
handkerchief  the  stream  of  life  which  issued  from  his  nose,  was  his 
venerated  leader  at  some  distance  off,  running  after  his  own  hat,  which 
was  gamboling  playfully  away  in  perspective. 

There  are  very  few  moments  in  a  man's  existence  when  he  ex- 
periences so  much  ludicrous  distress,  or  meets  with  so  little  charitable 
commiseration,  as  when  he  is  in  pursuit  of  his  own  hat.  A  vast  deal 
of  coolness,  and  a  peculiar  degree  of  judgment,  are  requisite  in  catching 
a  hat.  A  man  must  not  be  precipitate,  or  he  runs  over  it :  he  must 
not  rush  into  the  opposite  extreme,  or  he  loses  it  altogether.  The  best 
way  is,  to  keep  gently  up  with  the  object  of  pursuit,  to  bo  wary  and 
cautious,  to  watch  your  opportunity  well,  get  gradually  before  it— and 
then  make  a  rapid  dive,  seize  it  by  the  crown,  and  stick  it  firmly  on 
your  head;  smiling  pleasantly  all  the  time,  as  if  you  thought  it  as  good 
a  joke  as  anybody  else. 

There  was  a  fine  gentle  wind,  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  hat  rolled  sportively 
before  it.  The  wind  puffed,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  puffed,  and  the  hat 
rolled  over  and  over  as  merrily  as  a  lively  porpoise  in  a  strong  tide  : 
iind  on  it  might  have  rolled,  far  beyond  Mr.  Pickwick's  reach,  had  not 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  47 

its  course  been  providentially  stopped,  just  as  that  gentleman  was  on 
tlie  point  of  resigning  it  to  its  fate. 

Mr.  Pickwick  we  say,  was  completely  exhausted,  and  about  to  give 
up  the  chase,  when  the  hat  was  blown  with  some  violence  atrainst  the 
wheel  of  a  carriage  which  was  drawn  up  in  a  line  with  half-a-dozen 
other  vehicles  on  the  spot  to  which  his  steps  had  been  directed.  Mr. 
Pickwick,  perceiving  his  advantage,  darted  briskly  forward,  secured 
his  property  planted  it  on  his  head,  and  paused  to  take  breath.  He 
had  not  been  stationarj'  half  a  mini:te,  when  he  heard  his  own  name 
eagerly  pronounced  by  a  voice,  which  he  at  once  recognised  as  Mr. 
Tupman's,  and  looking  upwards,  he  beheld  a  sight  which  tilled  him 
with  surprise  and  pleasure. 

In  an  open  barouche,  the  horses  of  which  had  been  taken  cut,  the 
better  to  accommodate  it  to  the  crowded  place,  stood  a  stout  old  gentle- 
man, in  a  blue  coat  and  bright  buttons,  corduroy  breeches  and  top  boots, 
two  young  ladies  in  scarfs  and  feathers,  a  youuL'  gentleman  apparently 
enamoured  of  one  of  the  young  ladies  in  scarfs  and  feathers,  a  lady  of 
"doubtful  age,  probably  the  aunt  of  the  aforesaid,  and  Mr.  Tupman,  as 
easy  and  unconcerned  as  if  he  had  belonged  to  the  family  from  the  first 
moments  of  his  infancy.  Fastened  up  behind  the  barouche  was  a 
hamper  of  spacious  dimensions — one  of  those  hampers  which  always 
awakens,  in  a  contemplative  mind  associations  connected  with  cold 
fowls,  tongue,  and  bottles  of  wine — and  on  the  box  sat  a  fat  and  red- 
faced  boy,  in  a  state  of  somnolency,  whom  no  speculative  oli^rver 
could  have  regarded  for  an  instan*  without  setting  down  as  the  official 
dispenser  of  the  contents  of  the  before-mentioned  hamper,  when  the 
proper  time  for  their  consumption  should  drrive. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  bestowed  a  hasty  glance  on  these  interesting 
objects,  when  he  was  again  greeted  by  his  faithful  disciple. 

"  Pickwick — Pickwick,"'  said  Mr.  Tupman  ;  "  come  up  here. 
Make  haste." 

''  Come  along,"  sir.  Praj-,  come  up,"  said  the  stout  gentleman. 
*'  Joe  !  Joe  I — why,  has  the  boy  gone  to  sleep  again  1  Joe,  let  down 
the  steps."  The  fat  boy  rolled  slowly  off  the  box,  let  down  the  steps, 
and  held  the  carriage  door  invitingly  open.  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr. 
Winkle  came  up  at  the  moment. 

*'Room  for  you  all,  gentlemen,"  said  the  stout  man.  "  Two  inside, 
and  one  outside.  Joe,  make  room  for  one  of  these  gentlemen  on  the 
box.  Now,  sir,  come  along;"  and  the  stout  gentleman  extended  his 
arm,  and  pulled  first  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  then  Mr.  Snodgrass,  into  the 
barouche  by  main  force.  Mr.  Winkle  mounted  to  the  box,  the  fat  boy 
waddled  to  the  same  perch,  and  fell  fast  asleep  instantly. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  the  .'^tout  man,  "  very  glad  to  see  you. 
Know  you  very  well,  gentlemen,  though  you  mayn't  remember  me.  I 
spent  some  ev'nings  at  your  club  last  winter — picked  up  my  friend 
Mr.  Tupman  here  this  morning,  and  very  glad  I  was  to  see  him. 
Well,  sir,  and  how  are  you  ?     Yo  do  look  uncommon  well,  to  be  sure." 

Mr.  Pickwick  acknowledged  the  compliment,  and  cordially  shook 
hands  with  the  stout  gentleman  in  the  top  boots. 

*'  Well,  and  how  are  you,  sir  !  "  said  the  stout  gentleman,  addressing 
Mr.  Snodgrass  with  paternal  anxiety.  "  Charming,  eh  ?  Well,  that's 
right — that's  right.  And  how  arc  you,  sir  ^  (to  Mr.  Winkle.)  Well, 
I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  you  are  well ;  very  glad  I  am,  to  be  sure. 
My  daughters,  gentlemen — my  gals,  these  are ;  and  that's  my  sister. 


48  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Miss  Rachael  Warule.  She's  a  miss,  she  is  ;  and  yet  she  an't  a-miss 
— eh,  sir — eh!"  And  the  stout  gcntleinaii  playfully  inserted  his  elbow 
between  the  ribs  of  Mr.  Pi^-kwick,  and  laughed  very  heartily. 

"Oh,  brother  I"  said  Miss  Wardle,  with  a  deprecating  suiilo. 

"  True,  true,"  said  the  stout  gentleman  ;  "  no  one  can  deny  it. 
Gentlemen,  I  heg  your  pardon  ;  this  is  my  friend  Mr.  Trundle,  And 
now  you  will  all  know  each  other,  let's  be  comfortable  and  happy,  and 
see  what's  going  forward;  that's  what  I  say."  So  the  stout  gentle- 
man put  on  his  spectacles,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  pulled  out  his  glass,  and 
everybody  stood  up  in  the  carriage,  and  looked  over  somebody  else's 
shoulder  at  the  evolutions  of  the  military. 

Astounding  evolutions  they  were,  one  rank  firing  over  the  heads  of 
another  rank,  and  then  running  away  ;  and  then  the  other  rank  firing 
over  the  heads  of  another  rank,  and  running  away  in  their  turn  ;  and 
then  forming  squares  with  ofilcers  in  the  centre  ;  and  then  descending 
the  trench  on  one  side  with  scaling  ladders,  and  ascending  it  on  the 
other  again  by  the  same  means  ;  and  knocking  down  barricades  of 
baskets,  and  behaving  in  the  most  gallant  manner  possible.  Then 
there  was  such  a  raimning  down  of  the  contents  of  enormous  guns  on 
the  battery,  with  instruments  like  magnified  mops  ;  such  a  preparation 
before  they  were  let  ofif,  and  such  an  awful  noise  when  they  did  go, 
that  the  air  resounded  with  the  screams  of  ladies.  The  young  Miss 
Wardles  were  so  frightened,  that  Mr.  Trundle  was  actually  obliged  to 
hold*ne  of  them  up  in  the  carriage,  while  Mr.  Snodgrass  supported 
tlie  other ;  and  Mr.  Wardle's  sister  suffered  under  such  a, dreadful 
state  of  nervous  alarm,  that  Mr.  Tupman  found  it  indi.spensably  neces- 
sary to  put  his  arm  around  flier  waist,  to  keep  her  up  at  all.  Every 
body  was  excited  except  the  fat  boy,  and  he  slept  as  soundly  as  if  the 
roaring  of  cannon  were  his  ordinary  lullaby.  < 

"  Joe,  Joe  !''  said  the  stout  gentleman,  when  the  citadel  was  taken, 
and  the  besiegers  and  besieged  sat  down  to  dinner.  "  Why,  that  boy 
has  gone  to  sleep  again.  Be  good  enough  to  pinch  him,  sir — in  the 
leg,  if  you  please  ;  nothing  else  wakes  him  :  thank  you.  Undo  the 
hamper,  Joe." 

The  fat  boy.  who  had  been  effectually  roused  by  the  compression 
of  a  portion  of  his  leg  between  the  finger  and  thumb  of  Mr.  Winkle, 
rolled  off  the  box  once  again,  and  proceeded  to  unpack  the  hamper  with 
more  expedition  than  could  have  been  expected  from  his  previous 
inactivity. 

''  Now  we  must  sit  close,"  said  the  stout  gentleman.  After  a  great 
many  jokes  about  squeeziug  the  ladies'  sleeves,  and  a  vast  quantity  of 
blushing  at  .':undr)'  jocose  proposals,  that  the  ladies  should  sit  in  the 
gentlemen's  laps,  the  whole  party  were  stowed  down  in  the  barouche, 
and  the  stout  gentleman  proceeded  to  hand  the  things  from  the  fat  boy 
(who  had  mounted  up  behind  for  the  purpose)  into  tihe  carriagq. 

-'  Now,  Joe,  knives  and  forks."  The  knives  and  forks  were  handed 
in,  and  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  inside,  and  Mr.  Winkle  on  the  bo\, 
■were  each  furnished  with  those  useful  implements. 

"  Plates,  Joe,  plates."  A  similar  process  euqoloyed  in  the  distribu- 
lion  of  the  crocker)'." 

"  Now,  Joe,  the  fowls.  Joe !"  (sundry  taps  on  the  head  with  a  stick, 
and  the  fat  boy  with  some  difficulty  roused  from  his  lethargy,)  *'  Come, 
h^nd  in  the  eatables." 

There  w  as  something  in  the  sound  of  the  last  word,  which  roused 


THE    FICKWICK.    CLDB.  40 

the  unctuous  boj-  He  jumped  up  ;  and  the  leaden  eyes  which  twinkled 
behind  his  mountainous  cheeks,  leered  horribly  upon  the  food  as  he 
unpacked  it  from  the  basket. 

"  Now,  make  haste,''  said  Mr.  Wardle  ;  for  the  fat  boy  was  hanging 
fondly  over  a  capon,  which  he  seemed  wholly  unable  to  part  with.  The 
boy  sighed  deeply,  and  bestowing  an  ardent  gaze  upon  its  plumpness, 
unwillingly  consi'jned  it  to  his  master. 

"  That's  right — look  sharp.  Now  the  tongue — now  the  pigeon-pic. 
Take  care  of  that  veal  and  ham — mind  the  lobsters — take  the  salaul  out 
of  the  cloth — give  me  the  dressing."'  Such  were  the  hurried  orders 
which  issued  from  the  lips  of  Mr.  Wardle,  as  he  handed  in  the  different 
articles*  described,  and  placed  dishes  in  every  body's  hands,  and  on 
every  body's  knees,  in  endless  number. 

"Now,  ain't  this  capital  !'  inquired  that  jolly  personage,  when  the 
■work  of  destruction  had  commenced 

"  Capital  I"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  carving  a  fowl  on  the  box. 

'*  Glass  of  wine  ?" 

"  With  the  greatest  of  pleasure.'' 

"  You'd  better  have  a  bottle  to  yourself,  up  there,  hadn't  you  1" 

*'  You're  very  good." 

"Joe!" 

"Yes,  sir.''  (Ke  wasn't  asleep  this  time,  having  just  succeeded  in 
abstracting  a  veal  pat*y.) 

"  Bottle  of  wine  to  the  gentleman  on  the  box.   Glad  to  see  you,  sir.' 

"Thankee."  Mr.  U'inkle  emptied  his  glass,  and  placed  the  bottle 
on  the  coach-box,  by  his  side. 

"  Will  you  permit  me  to  have  the  pleasure,  sir!"  said  Mr.  Trundle 
to  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  replied  I^Ir.  Winkle  to  Mr.  Trundle  ;  and 
then  the  two  gentlemen  took  wine,  after  which  they  took  a  glass  of 
wine  round,  ladies  and  all. 

"  How  dear  Emily  is  flirting  with  the  strange  gentleman,"  whispered 
the  spinster  aunt,  with  true  spinster-aunt-like  envy,  to  her  brother  Mr. 
Wardle. 

"  Oh  I  I  don't  know,"  said  the  jolly  old  gentleman  ;  "  all  very  nata- 
ral,  I  dare  say — nothing  unusual.  Mr.  Pickwick,  some  wine,  sir  ^" 
Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  been  deeply  investigating  the  interior  of  the 
pigeon-pie,  readily  assented. 

"  Emily,  my  dear,"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  with  a  patronising  air, 
"don't  talk  so  loud,  love." 

"  Lor,  aunt !' 

"  Aunt  and  the  little  old  gentleman  want  to  have  it  all  to  themselves, 
I  think,"  whispered  Miss  Isabella  Wardle  to  her  sister  Emily.  The 
young  ladies  laughed  heartily,  and  the  old  one  tried  to  look  amiable,  but 
could  not  manage  it. 

"Young  girls  hsive  such  spirits,"  said  Miss  Wardle  to  Mr.  Tupman, 
with  an  air  of  gentle  commiseration,  a.'^  if  animal  spirits  were  contra 
band,  and  their  possession  without  a  permit  a  high  crime  and  misde- 
meanor. 

"  Oh,  they  have,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  not  exactly  makinj;  the  sort 
of  reply  that  was  expected  from  him.  •   "  It's  quite  delightful.'' 

"  Hem  !''  said  .Miss  Wardle,  rather  dubiously. 

"  Will  you  permit  me,''  said  Mr.  Tupman,  in  his  blandest  manner, 

Vol.  I.— 5. 


30  PJSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

touching  the  enchanting  Rachael's  wrist  with  one  hand,  and  gently 
elevating  the  bottle  with  the  other.     "Will  you  permit  me  1" 

*' Oh,  sir!"  Mr.  Tupman  looked  most  impressive;  and  Rachael 
expressed  her  fear  that  more  guns  were  going  off,  in  which  case,  of 
course,  she  would  have  required  support  again. 

*'  Do  you  think  my  dear  nieces  pretty  ?"  whispered  their  affectionate 
aunt  to  Mr.  Tupman. 

• ''  I  i-hould,  if  their  aunt  wasn't  here,"  replied  the  ready  Pickwickian, 
with  a  passionate  glance. 

"  Oh,  you  naughty  man — but  really,  if  their  complexions  were  a  little 
better,  don't  you  think  they  would  be  nice-looking  girls — by  candle 
light !" 

"  Yes  ;  I  think  they  would,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  with  an  air  of  indif- 
ference. 

"  Oh,  you  quiz — I  know  what  you  were  going  to  say." 

♦'Whatl"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  not  precisely  made  up 
his  mind  to  say  any  thing  at  all. 

"  You  were  going  to  say  that  Isabel  stoops — I  know  you  were — you 
men  are  such  observers.  Well,  so  she  does  ;  it  can't  be  denied  ;  and, 
certainly,  if  there  is  one  thing  more  than  another  that  makes  a  girl  look 
ugly,  it  is  stooping.  I  often  tell  her  that  when  she  gets  a  little  older, 
she'll  he  quite  frightful      Well,  you  are  a  quiz  !" 

Mr.  Tupman  had  no  objection  to  earning  the  reputation  at  so  cheap 
a  rcte  ;  so  he  looked  very  knowing,  and  smiled  mysteriously. 

"  What  a  sarcastic  smile,"  said  the  admiring  Rachael ;  "  I  declare 
I'm  quite  afraid  of  you."  » 

"Afraid  of  me!" 

"  Oh,  you  can't  disguise  any  thing  from  me — I  know  what  that  smile 
means,  very  well." 

"  Whatl"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  not  the  sHghtest  notion  him 
self 

"You  mean,"  said  the  amiable  aunt,  sinking  her  voice  still  lower — 
♦'You  mean,  that  you  don't  think  Isabella's  stooping  is  as  bad  as 
Emily's  boldness.  Well,  she  is  bold  !  You  cannot  think  how  wretched 
it  makes  me  sometimes — I'm  sure  I  cry  about  it  for  hours  together — 
my  dear  brother  is  so  good,  and  so  unsuspicious,  that  he  never  sees  it ; 
if  he  did,  Fm  quite  certain  it  would  break  his  heart.  I  wisV  I  could 
think  it  was  only  manner — I  hope  it  may  be — "  (here  the  affectionate 
relative  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  shook  her  head  despondingly.) 

"  I'm  sure  aunt's  talking  about  us,"  whispered  Miss  Emily  Wardle 
to  her  sister — "  I'm  quite  certain  of  it — she  looks  so  malicious." 

"  Is  she  ?"  replied  Isabella — "  Hem  !  aunt,  dear  !" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  love  I" 

"I'm  so  afraid  yo-i'U  catch  cold,  aunt — have  a  silk  handkerchief  to 
lie  round  your  dear  old  head — you  really  should  take  care  of  yourself — 
consider  your  age  !" 

However  well  deserved  this  piece  of  retaliation  might  have  been,  it 
was  as  vindictive  a  OTie  as  could  well  have  been  resorted  to.  There  is 
no  guessing  in  what  form  of  reply  the  aunt's  indignation  would  have 
vented  itself,  h^d  not  Mr.  Wardle  unconsciously  changed  the  subject, 
by  calling  emphatically  for  Joe.  • 

'•  D — n  that  buy,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  he's  gone  to  sleep  again." 

"  Very  extraordinary  boy,  that,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  does  he 
always  sleep  in  this  way  !" 


THE    P1CKV»ICK    CLUB.  fil 

*<  Sleep  I"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "he's  always  asleep.     Goes  on 
errands  fast  asleep,  and  snores  as  he  waits  at  table." 
"  How  very  odd  I"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Ah  I  odd  indeed,"'  returned  the  old  gentleman  ;  "  I'm  proud  of 
that  boy — wouldn't  part  with  him  on  any  account — why,  he's  a 
natural  curiosity  I  Here,  Joe — Joe — take  these  things  away,  and  open 
another  bottle — d'ye  hearV 

The  fat  boy  rose,  opened  his  eyes,  swallowed  the  huge  piece  of  pic 
he  had  been  in  the  act  of  masticating  when  he  last  fell  asleep,  and 
slowly  obeyed  his  master's  orders — gloating  languidly  over  the  remains 
of  the  feast,  as  he  removed  the  plates,  and  deposited  them  in  the 
hamper.  The  fresh  bottle  was  produced,  and  speedily  emptied  ;  the 
hamper  was  made  fast  in  its  old  place — the  fat  boy  once  more  mounted 
the  box — the  spectacles  and  pocket-glass  were  again  adjusted — and  the 
evolutions  of  the  military  recommenced.  There  was  a  great  fizzing 
and  banging  of  guns,  and  startling  of  ladies — and  then  a  mine  was 
sprung,  to  the  gratification  of  every  body — and  when  the  mine  had  gone 
off,  the  military  and  the  .company  followed  its  example,  and  went 
off  too. 

"  Now,  min^,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  as  he  shook  hands  with  Mr. 
Pickwick  at  the  conclusion  of  a  conversation  which  had  been  carried 
on  at  intervals,  during  the  conclusion  of  the  proceedings — "  we  shall 
see  you  all  to-morrow." 

"  Most  certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 
*'  You  have  got  the  address?' 

"  Manor  Farm,  Dingley  Dell,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  consulting  his 
pocket-book. 

"  That's  it,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "  I  don't  let  you  off,  mind, 
under  a  week  ;  and  undertake  that  you  shall  see  every  thing  worth 
seeing.  If  you've  come  down  for  a  country  life,  come  to  me,  and  I'll 
give  you  plenty  of  it.  Joe — d — n  that  boy,  he's  gone  to  sleep  again — 
Joe,  help  Tom  put  in  the  horses." 

The  horses  were  put  in — the  driver  mounted — the  fat  boy  clambered 
up  by  his  side— farewells  were  exchanged — and  the  carriages  rattled 
off.  As  the  Pickwickians  turned  around  to  take  a  last  glimpse  of  it, 
the  setting  sun  cast  a  rich  glow  on  the  faces  of  their  entertainers,  and 
fell  upon  the  form  of  the  fat  boy.  His  head  was  sunk  upon  his  bosonp  ; 
and  he  slumbered  again. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    SHORT    ONE SHOWING,    AMONG    OTHER    MATTERS,    HOW  MR.   PICKWICK 

*  UNDERTOOK  TO  DRIVE,  A.ND  MR.  WINKLE  TO  HIDE  ;  AND  HOW  THEY  BOTH 
DID  IT. 

Bright  and  pleasant  was  the  sky,  balmy  the  air,  and  beautiful  the 
appearance  of  every  object  around,  as  .Mr.  Pickwick  leaned  over  the 
balustrades  of  Rochester  Bridge,  contemplating  nature,  and  waiting  for 
breakfast.  _  The  scene  was  indeed  one,  which  might  well  have  charmed 
a  far  less  reflective  mind  than  that  to  which  it  was  presented. 


52  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

On  the  left  of  the  spectator  lay  the  ruined  wall,  broken  in  many 
places  ;  anJ,  in  some,  overhanging  the  narrow  breach  l)elow  in  rude 
and  heas'y  masses.  Huge  knots  of  seaweed  hung  upon  the  jagged  and 
pointed  stones,  trembling  in  every  breath  of  wind  ;  and  the  green  ivy 
clung  mournfully  round  the  dark  and  ruined  battlements.  Behind  it 
rose  the  ancient  castle,  its  towers  roofless,  and  its  massive  walls  crumb- 
ling away,  but  telling  us  proudly  of  its  old  might  and  strength,  as 
when,  seven  hundred  years  ago,  it  rang  with  the  clash  of  arms,  or 
resounded  with  the  noise  of  feasting  and  revelry.  On  either  side,  the 
banks  of  the  Mcdway,  covered  with  corn-fields  and  pastures,  with  here 
and  there  a  windmill,  or  a  distant  church,  stretched  away  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  see,  presenting  a  rich  and  varied  landscape,  rendered  more 
beautiful  by  the  changing  shadows  which  passed  swiftly  across  it,  as 
the  thin  and  half-formed  clouds  skimmed  away  in  the  light  of  the  morn- 
ing-sun. The  river,  reflecting  the  clear  blue  of  the  sky,  glistened  and 
sparkled  as  it  flowed  noiselessly  on  ;  and  the  oars  of  the  fishermen 
dipped  into  the  water  with  a  clear  and  liquid  sound,  as  their  heavy,  but 
picturesque,  boats  glided  slowly  down  the  stream. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  roused  from  the  agreeable  reverie  into  which  he 
had  been  led  by  the  objects  before  him,  by  a  deep  sigh,  and  a  touch  on 
his  shoulder.     He  turned  round  ;  and  the  dismal  man  was  at  his  side. 

*'  Contemplating  the  scene  1"  inquired  the  dismal  man. 

*'  I  was,"'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  And  congratulating  yourself  on  being  up  so  soon  ?"  Mr.  Pick- 
wick nodded  assent. 

"  Ah  !  people  need  to  rise  early,  to  see  the  sun  in  all  his  splendour, 
for  his  brightness  seldom  lasts  the  day  through.  The  morning  ol  day 
and  the  morning  of  life  are  but  too  much  alike." 

•'  You  speak  truly,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"How  common  the  saying,"  continued  the  dismal  man,  "  The  morn- 
ing's too  fine  to  last.  How  well  might  it  be  applied  to  our  every-day 
existence.  Ah  !  what  would  I  forfeit  to  have  the  days  of  my  childhood 
restored,  or  to  be  able  to  forget  them  for  ever  !" 

"  You  have  seen  much  trouble,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  compas- 
sionately. 

■  "  I  have,"  said  the  dismal  man,  hurriedly  ;  "  I  have.  More  than 
those  who  see  me  now  would  believe  possible."  He  paused  for  an 
instant,  and  then  said  abruptly, 

"  Did  it  ever  strike  you,  on  such  a  morning  as  this,  that  drowning 
would  be  happiness  and  peace  1" 

"  Why,  bless  me,  no  !"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  edging  a  little  from 
the  balustrade,  as  the  possibility  of  the  dismal  man's  tipping  him  over, 
by  way  of  experiment,  occurred  to  him  rather  forcibly. 

"  I  have  thought  .%o,  often,"  said  the  dismal  man,  without  noticing  the 
action.  "  The  calm  cool  water  seems  to  me  to  murmur  an  invitation  to 
repose  and  rest.  Abound,  a  splash,  a  brief  struggle  ;  there  is  an  eddy 
for  an  instant,  it  gradually  subsides  into  a  gentle  ripple ;  the  waters  have 
closed  above  your  head,  and  the  world  has  closed  upon  your  miseries 
and  misfortunes  for  ever."  The  sunken  eye  of  the  dismal  man  flashed 
brightly  as  he  spoke,  but  the  momentary  excitement  quickly  subsided ; 
and  he  turned  calmly  away,  as  he  said — 

"  There — enough  of  that.  I  wished  to  see  you  on  another  subject. 
You  invited  me  to  read  that  paper  the  night  before  last,  and  li.stened 
attentively  while  I  did  so." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  53 

**  I  did,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  *'  and  I  certainly  thought " 

**  I  asked  for  no  opinion,"  said  the  dismal  man,  interrupting  him, 
**  and  I  want  none.  You  are  travelling  for  amusement  and  instruction. 
Suppose  I  forwarded  you  a  curious  manuscript — observe,  not  curiouk 
because  wild  or  improbable,  but  curious  as  a  leaf  from  the  romance  of 
real  life.  Would* you  communicate  it  to  the  club  of  which  you  have 
spoken  so  frequently  ]" 

•'Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "if  you  wished  it;  and  it  would 
be  entered  on  their  Transactions  " 

"  You  shall  have  it,"  replied  the  dismal  man.  "  Your  address  :  and 
Mr.  Pickwick  having  communicated  their  probable  route,  the  dismal 
roan  carefully  noted  it  down  in  a  greasy  pocket-book  ;  and  resisting 
Mr  Pickwick's  pressing  invitation  to  breakfast,  left  that  gentleman  at 
his  inn,  and  walked  slowly  away. 

Mr.  Pickwick  found  that  his  three  companions  had  risen,  and  were 
waiting  his  arrival  to  commence  breakfast,  which  was  ready  laid  in 
tempting  display.  They  sat  down  to  the  meal ;  and  broiled  ham,  eggs, 
tea,  coffee,  and  sundries,  began  to  disappear  with  a  rapidity  which  at 
once  bore  testimony  to  the  excellence  of  the  fare,  and  the  appetites  of 
its  consumers. 

"Now,  about  Manor  Farm,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.   "Howshall  we  go  ?" 

"  We  had  better  consult  the  wai'er,  perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Tupman  ;  and 
the  waiter  was  summoned  accordingly. 

"  Dingley  Dell,  gentlemen — fifteen  miles,  gentlemen — cross  road — 
post-chaise,  sir  T' 

"  Post-chaise  won't  hold  more  than  two,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  True,  sir — beg  your  pardon,  sir.  Very  nice  four-wheeled  chaise, 
sir — seat  for  two  behind — one  in  front  for  the  gentleman  that  drives. 
Oh  !   bcff  your  pardon,  sir — that'll  only  hold  three." 

''What's  to  be  done  ?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

*'  Perhaps  one  of  the  gentlemen  like  to  ride,  sir,"  suggested  the  wai- 
ter, looking  towards  Mr.  Winkle  ;  "  very  good  saddle  horses,  sir — any 
of  Mr.  Wardle's  men  coming  to  Rochester,  bring  'em  back,  sir." 

"The  very  thing,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "Winkle,  will  you  go  on 
horseback  1" 

Now  Mr.  Winkle  did  entertain  considerable  misgivings  in  the  very 
lowe.st  recesses  of  his  own  heart,  relative  to  his  equestrian  skill ;  but 
as  he  would  not  have  them  even  suspected  on  any  account,  he  at  once 
replied  with  great  hardihood,  "  Certainly.  I  should  enjoy  it,  of  all 
things." 

Mr.  Winkle  had  rushed  upon  his  fate  ;  there  was  no  resource.  "  Let 
them  be  at  the  door  by  eleven,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  replied  the  waiter. 

The  waiter  retired  ;  the  breakfast  concluded  ;  and  the  travellers 
ascended  to  their  respective  bed-rooms,  to  prepare  a  change  of  cloth- 
ing, to  take  with  them  on  their  approaching  expedition. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  matle  his  preliminary  arrangements,  and  was  look- 
ing over  the  coffee-room  blinds  at  the  passengers  in  the  street,  when 
the  waiter  entered,  and  announced  that  the  chaise  was  ready — an 
announcement  which  the  vehicle  itself  confirmed,  by  forthwith  appear- 
ing before  the  coffee-room  blinds  aforesaid. 

It  was  a  curious  little  green  box  on  four  wheels,  with  a  low  place 
like  a  wine  bin  for  two  behind,  and  an  elevated  perch  for  one  in  front, 
drawn  by  an  immease  brown  horse,  displaying  great  symmetry  of  bone. 

5* 


54  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OT 

An  hostler  stood  near  it,  holding  by  the  bridle  another  immense  horse 
— apparently  a  near  relative  of  the  animal  in  the  chaise — rftady  saddled 
for  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Bless  my  soul !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  they  stood  upon  the  pave- 
ment while  the  coats  were  being  put  in.  "  Bless  my  soul !  who's  to 
irive]     I  never  thought  of  that." 

"Oh  !  you,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 
•'  Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 
"I!"  exclaimed  IVIr.  Pickwick. 

"  Not  the  slightest  fear,  sir,"  interposed  the  hostler.    "  Warrant  him 
quiet,  sir  ;  a  hinfant  in  arms  might  drive  him." 
"  He  don't  shy,  does  he  1"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"  Shy,  sir]     He  wouldn't  shy  if  he  was  to  meet  a  vaggin-load  of 
monkeys,  with  their  tails  burnt  off." 

The' last  recommendation  was  indisputable.  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass  got  into  the  bin ;  Mr.  Pickwick  ascended  to  his  perch,  and 
deposited  his  feet  on  a  floor-clothed  shelf,  erected  beneath  it  for  that 
purpose. 

"  Now,  shiny  Villiam,"  said  the  hostler  to  the  deputy  hostler,  ♦<  give 
the  gen'Fm'n  the  ribbins."  "  Shiny  Villiam" — so  called  jwobably,  from 
his  sleek  hair  and  oily  countenance — placed  the  reins  in  Mr.  Pickwick's 
left  hand  ;  and  the  upper  hostler  thrust  a  whip  into  his  right. 

'"  Woo,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the  tall  quadruped  evinced  a  decided 
incHnation  to  back  into  the  coftee-room  window. 

"  Wo — 0,"  echoed  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  from  the  bin. 
*'  Only  his  playfulness,  gen'l'm'n,"  said  the  head  hostler  encoura- 
gingly— '' jist  kitch  'old  on  him,  Villiam  "     The  deputy  restrained  the 
animal's  impetuosity,  and  the  principal  ran  to  assist  Mr.  Winkle  in 
mounting. 

"  T'other  side,  sir,  if  you  please." 

"  Blowed  if  the  gen'l'm'n  wom't  a  gettin'  up  on  the  wrong  side," 
whispered  a  grinning  post-boy,  to  the  inexpressively  gratified  waiter. 

Mr.  Winkle,  thus  instructed,  climbed  into  his  saddle,  with  about  as 
much  difficulty  as  he  would  have  experienced  in  getting  up  the  side  of 
a  first  rate  man-of-war. 

"All  right  1"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  inward  presentiment 
that  it  was  all  wrong. 

<'  All  right]"  replied  Mr.  Winkle  faintly. 

"  Let  "em  go,"  cried  the  hostler.  "  Hold  him  in,  sir  ;"  and  way  went 
the  chaise,  and  tV.e  saddle-horse,  with  Mr.  Pickwick  on  the  box  of  the 
one,  and  Mr.  Winkle  on  the  back  of  the  other,  to  the  delight  and 
gratification  of  the  vvhole  inn  yard. 

"  What  makes  him  go  sideways  V  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  in  the  bin,  to 
Mr.  Winkle  in  the  saddle. 

"  I  can't  imagine,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  His  horse  was  going  up 
the  street  in  the  most  mysterious  manner — side  first,  with  his  head 
towards  one  side  of  the  way,  and  his  tail  to  the  other. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  no  leisure  to  observe  either  this  or  any  other 
particular,  the  whole  of  his  faculties  being  concentrated  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  animal  attached  to  the  chaise,  who  displayed  various 
peculiarities,  higlily  interesting  to  a  bystander,  but  by  no  means  equally 
amusing  to  any  one  seated  behind  him.  Besides  constantly  jerking  hi;; 
head  up,  in  a  very  unpleasant  and  uncomfortable  manner,  and  tugging 
iit  the  reins  to  an  extent  which  rendered  it  a  matter  of  great  difficulty 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB,  55 

for  Mr.  Pickwick  to  hold  them,  he  had  a  singular  propensity  for  darting 
suddenly,  every  now  and  then,  to  the  side  of  the  road,  then  stopping 
short,  and  then  rushing  forwards  for  some  minutes,  al  a  speed  which 
it  was  wholly  impossible  to  control. 

"  What  can  he  mean  by  this  V  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  when  the  horse 
had  executed  his  manceuvre  for  the  twentieth  time. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Tupman  ;  "  it  looks  very  like  shying,  don't 
iti"  Mr.  Snodgrass  was  about  to  reply,  when  he  was  interrupted  by 
a  shout  from  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Woo,"  said  that  gentleman  ;  "  I  have  dropped  my  whip." 

"  Winkle,"  cried  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  the  equestrian  came  trotting  up 
on  the  tall  horse,  with  his  hat  over  his  ears  ;  and  shaking  all  over,  as 
if  he  would  shake  to  pieces,  with  the  violence  of  the  exercise,  "  Pick 
up  the  whip,  there's  a  good  fellow."'  Mr.  Winkle  pulled  at  the  bridle 
of  the  tall  horse  till  he  was  black  in  the  face  ;  and  having  at  length 
succeeded  in  stopping  him,' dismounted,  handed  the  whip  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, and  grasping  the  reins,  prepared  to  remount. 

Now  whether  the  tall  horse,  in  the  natural  playfulness  of  his  dispo- 
sition, vas  desirous  of  having  a  little  innocent  recreation  with  Mr.  Win- 
kle, or  whether  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  could  perform  the  journey  as 
much  to  his  own  satisfaction  without  a  rider  as  with  one,  are  points 
upon  which,  of  course,  we  can  arrive  at  no  definite  and  distinct  conclu- 
sion. By  whatever  motives  the  animal  was  actuated,  certain  it  is  that 
Mr.  Winkle  had  no  sooner  touched  the  reins,  than  he  slipped  them 
over  his  head,  and  darted  backwards  to  their  full  length. 

*' Poor  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  soothingly, — "poor  fellow — good 
old  horse."  The  "poor  fellow"  was  proof  against  flattery  :  the  more 
Mr.  Winkle  tried  to  get  nearer  him,  the  more  he  sidled  away  :  and, 
notwithstanding  all  kinds  of  coaxing  and  wheedling,  there  were  Mr. 
Winkle  and  the  horse  going  round  and  round  each  other  for  ten  minutes, 
at  the  end  of  which  time  each  was  at  precisely  the  same  distance  from 
the  other  as  when  they  first  commenced — an  unsatisfactory  sort  of 
thing  under  any  circumstances,  but  particularly  so  in  a  lonely  road, 
where  no  assistance  can  be  procured. 

"  What  am  I  to  do  ?"  shouted  Mr.  Winkle,  after  the  dodging  had 
been  prolonged  for  a  considerable  time.  "  Whai  am  I  to  do  ]  I  can't 
get  on  him  !" 

•'  You  had  better  lead  him  till  we  come  to  a  turnpike,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick  from  the  chaise. 

"  But  he  won't  come,'"  roared  Mr.  Winkle.  "  Do  come  and  hold  him."' 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  the  very  personation  of  kindness  and  humanity  : 
he  threw  the  reins  on  the  horse's  back,  and  having  descended  from  his 
seat,  carefully  drew  the  chaise  into  the  hedge,  lest  any  thing  should 
come  along  the  road,  and  stepped  back  to  the  assistance  of  his  dis- 
tressed companion,  leaving  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  in  the 
vehicle. 

The  horse  no  sooner  beheld  Mr.  Pickwick  advancing  towards  him, 
with  the  chaise  whip  in  his  hand,  than  he  exchanged  the  rotan.'  motion 
in  which  he  had  previously  indulged,  for  a  retrograde  movement  of  so 
very  determined  a  character,  that  it  at  once  drew  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was 
still  at  the  end  of  the  bridle,  at  a  rather  quicker  rate  than  fast  walking 
in  the  direction  from  which  they  had  just  come.  Mr.  Pickwick  ran  to 
his  assistance,  but  the  fa.ster  Mr.  Pickwick  ran  forward,  the  faster  the 
horse  ran  backward.     There  was  a  great  scraping  of  feet,  and  kicking 


56  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS  or 

up  of  the  dust;  and  at  last  Mr.  Winkle,  his  arras  being  nearly  pulled 
out  of  their  sockets,  fairly  let  go  his  hold.  The  horse  paused,  stared, 
shook  his  head,  turned  n)und,  and  quietly  trotted  home  to  Rochester, 
leaving  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Pickwick  gazing  on  each  other  with  coun- 
tenances of  blank  dismay.  A  rattling  noise  at  a  little  distance  attracted 
their  attention.     They  looked  up. 

"Bless  my  soul  !"  exclaimed  the  agonized  Mr.  Pickwick,  "there's 
the  other  horse  running  away  !" 

It  was  but  too  true.  The  animal  was  startled  by  the  noise,  and  the 
reins  were  on  his  back.  The  result  maybe  guessed  He  tore  off  with 
the  four  wheeled  chaise  behind  him,  and  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  in  the  four  wheeled  chaise.  The  heat  was  a  short  one.  Mr. 
Tupman  threw  himself  into  the  hedge,  Mr.  Snodgrass  followed  his 
example,  the  horse  dashed  the  four  wheeled  chaise  against  a  wooden 
bridge,  separated  the  wheels  from  the  body,  and  the  bin  from  the  perch  ; 
and  finally  stood  stock  still,  to  gaze  upon  the  ruin  he  had  made. 

The  first  care  of  the  two  unspilt  friends  was  to  extricate  their  un- 
fortunate companions  from  their  bed  of  quickset — a  process  which 
gave  them  the  unspeakable  satisfaction  of  discovering  that  they  had 
sustained  no  injury,  beyond  sundry  rents  in  their  garments,  and 
various  Ircerations  from  the  brambles.  The  next  thing  to  be  done 
■was,  to  unharness  the  horse.  This  complicated  proces.s  having  been 
effected,  the  party  walked  slowly  forward,  leading  the  horse  among 
them,  and  abandoning  the  chaise  to  its  fate. 

An  hour's  walking  brought  the  travellers  to  a  little  road-side  public 
house,  with  two  elm-trees,  a  horse  trough,  and  a  sign-post,  in  front ; 
one  or  two  deformed  hay-ricks  behind,  a  kitchen  garden  at  the  side, 
and  rotten  sheds  and  mouldering  out-houses,  jumbled  in  strange  con- 
fusion, all  about  it.  A  red  headed  man  was  working  in  the  garden  ; 
and  to  him  Mr.  Pickwick  called  lostily — "  Hallo  there  !" 

The  red-headed  man  raised  his  body,  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hands, 
and  stared,  long  and  coolly,  at  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  companions. 

"Hallo  there  !"  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Hallo  !"  was  the  red-headed  man's  reply. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  Dingley  DelH" 

"  Better  er  seven  mile." 

^'  Is  it  a  good  road  ]" 

"  No,  t'ant."  Having  uttered  this  brief  reply,  and  apparently  satis- 
fied himself  with  another  scrutiny,  the  red-headed  man  resumed  his  work. 

"  We  want  to  put  this  horse  up  here,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  I  sup- 
pose we  can,  can't  we  1" 

"  Want  to  put  that  ere  horse  up,  do  ee  I"  repeated  the  red-headed 
man,  leaning  on  his  spade. 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  by  this  time  advanced, 
horse  in  hand,  to  the  garden  rails. 

"  Missus," — roared  the  man  with  the  red  head,  emerging  from  the 
garden,  and  looking  very  hard  at  the  horse — "  Missus." 

A  tall  bony  woman — straight  all  the  way  down — in  a  coarse  blue 
pelisse,  with  the  waist  an  inch  or  two  below  her  arm  pits,  responded 
to  the  call. 

"  Can  we  put  this  horse  up  here,  my  good  woman  1"  said  Mr.  Tup- 
man, advancing,  and  speaking  in  his  most  seductive  tones.  The 
woman  looked  very  hard  at  the  whole  party  :  and  the  red-headed  mau 
whispered  something  in  her  ear. 


THK  PICKWICK  CLUB.  '  57 

"  No,"  replied  the  woman,  after  a  little  consideration,  "  I  am  afeerd 
on  it." 

••  Afraid  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pi(^wick,  "  what's  the  woman  afraid  of!" 

"  It  got  us  in  troulile  last  time,"  said  the  woman,  turning  into  the 
house  ;  "  I  won't  have  nothin'  to  say  to  'um." 

"  Most  e.xtraordinary  thing  1  ever  met  with  in  ijny  life,"  said  the 
astonished  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"I — I — really  believe,''  whispered  Mr.  Winkle,  as  his  friends  gather- 
ed round  him,  "  that  they  think  we  have  come  by  this  horse  in  some 
dishonest  manner." 

•'  What  I"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  storm  of  indignation.  Mr. 
Winkle  modestly  repeated  his  suggestion. 

"Hallo,  you  fellow  I"  said  the  angry  Mr.  Pickwick,  "do  you  think 
we  stole  this  horse  ?" 

"  Fm  sure  ye  did,"  replied  the  red-headed  man,  with  a'grin  which 
agitated  his  countenance  from  one  auricular  organ  to  the  other. 
Saying  which,  he  turned  into  the  house,  and  banged  the  door  after  him. 

"  It's  like  a  dream,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick — "  a  hideous  dream. 
The  idea  of  a  man's  walking  about,  all  day,  with  a  dreadful  horse, 
that  he  can't  get  rid  of!"  The  depressed  Pickwickians  turned 
moodily  away,  with  the  tall  quadruped  for  which  they  all  felt  the  most 
unmitigated  disgust,  following  slowly  at  their  heels. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  four  friends  and  their  four- 
footed  companion  turned  into  the  lane  leading  to  Manor  Farm  ;  and 
even  when  they  were  so  near  their  place  of  desiination,  the  pleasure 
they  would  otherwise  have  e.x-perienced,  was  materially  damped  as  they 
reflected  on  the  singularity  of  their  appearance,  and  the  absurdity  of 
their  situation.  Tom  clothes,  lacerated  faces,  dusty  shdes,  exhausted 
looks,  and  above  all,  the  horse.  Oh,  how  Mr.  Pickwick  cursed  that 
horse  :  he  had  eyed  the  noble  animal  from  time  to  time  with  looks  ex- 
pressive of  hatred  and  revenge  ;  more  than  once  he  had  calculated  the 
probable  amount  of  the  expense  he  would  incur  by  cutting  his  throat, 
and  now  the  temptation  to  destroy  him,  or  to  cast  him  loose  upon  the 
world,  rushed  upon  his  mind  with  ten-fold  force.  He  was  roused  from 
a  meditation  on  these  dire  imaginings,  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  two 
figures,  at  a  turn  of  the  lane.  It  was  Mr.  Wardle,  and  his  faithful 
attendant,  the  fat  boy. 

"Why,  where  have  you  been  1"  said  the  hospitable  old  gentleman. 
"  I've  been  waiting  for  you  all  day.  Well*  you  do  look  tired.  What ! 
Scratches  !  Not  hurt,  I  hope — eh  ]  Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  that — 
very.  So,  you've  been  spilt,  eh  1  Never  mind.  Common  accident 
in  these  parts.  Joe— Why,  the  boy,  he's  asleep  again — Joe,  take  that 
horse  from  the  gentleman,  and  lead  it  into  the  stable.'* 

The  fat  boy  sauntered  heavily  behind  them  with  the  animal ;  and  the 
old  gentleman,  condoling  with  his  guests  in  homely  phrase,  on  so  much 
of  the  day's  adventures  as  they  thought  proper  to  conununicate,  led  the 
way  to  the  kitchen. 

''  We'll  have  you  put  to  rights  here,''  said  the  old  gentleman,  »  and 
then  I'll  introduce  you  to  the  people  in  the  parlour.  Emma  bring  out 
the  cherry  brandy  ;  now,  Jane,  a  needle  and  thread  here — towels  and 
water,  Mary.     Come,  girls,  busile  about." 

Three  or  four  buxom  girls  speedily  dispersed  in  search  of  the  dif- 
ferent articles  in  requisition,  while  a  couple  of  large-headed,  circiilai 
visaged  males    rose  from   their    seats   in    the  chimney  corner,  (for. 


68  POSTHDMOUS  PAPERS  0? 

although  it  was  a  May  evening,  their  attachment  to  the  wood  fire  ap- 
peared as  cordial  as  if  it  were  Christmas,)  and  dived  into  some  obscure 
recesses,  from  which  they  speedily  pr4)duced  a  bottle  of  blacking  and 
some  half  a  dozen  brushes. 

"Bustle,"  said  the  old  gentleman  again:  but  the  admonition  was 
quite  unnecessary,  for  one  of  the  girls  poured  out  the  cherry  brandy, 
and  another  brought  in  the  towels,  and  one  of  the  men  suddenly  seizing- 
Mr.  Pickwick  by  the  leg,  at  the  imminent  hazard  of  throwing  him  off 
his  balance,  brushed  away  at  his  boot  till  his  corns  were  red  hot :  while 
the  other  shampoo'd  Mr.  Winkle  with  a  heavy  clothes'  brush,  indul- 
ging, during  the  operation  in  that  hissing  sound,  which  hostlers  are 
wont  to  produce  when  engaged  in  rubbing  down  a  horse. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  having  concluded  his  ablutions,  took  a  survey  of  the 
room,  while  standing  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  sipping  his  cherry  brandy 
with  heartfelt  satisfaction.  He  describes  it  as  a  large  apartment  with 
a  red  brick  floor,  and  a  capacious  chimney  :  the  ceiling  garnished  with 
hams,  sides  of  bacon,  and  ropes  of  onions.  The  walls  were  decorated 
with  several  hunting-whips,  two  or  three  bridles,  a  saddle,  and  an  old 
rusty  blunderbuss  with  an  inscription  below  it,  intimating  that  it  was 
"Loaded," — as  it  had  been,  on  the  same  authority,  for  a  half  century  at 
least.  An  old  eight-day  clock,  of  solemn  and  sedate  demeanour,  ticked 
gravely  in  one  corner ;  and  a  silver  watch,  of  equal  antiquity,  dangled 
from  one  of  the  many  hooks  which  ornamented  the  dresser. 

"  Ready  '^"  said  the  old  gentleman,  inquiringly,  when  his  guests  had 
been  washed,  mended^  brushed,  and  brandied. 

*'•  Quite,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Come  along  then  ;"  and  the  party  having  traversed  several  dark 
passages,  and  being  joined  by  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  lingered  behind 
to  snatch  a  kiss  from  Emma,  for  which  he  had  been  duly  rewarded  with, 
sundry  pushings  and  scratches,  arrived  at  the  parlour  door. 

"  Welcome,"  said  the  hospitable  host,  throwing  it  open  and  stepping 
forward  to  announce  them — "  Welcome,  gentlemen,  to  Manor  Farm.'* 


CHAPTER  VI.    ' 

AX  OLD-FASHIOXED  CARD  PARTY THE  CLERGYMAN'S  VERSES THE  STOKY 

OF  THE  convict's  KETCR.V. 

Several  guests,  who  were  assembled  in  the  old  parlour,  rose  to 
greet  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  upon  their  entrance  ;  and  during 
the  performance  of  the  ct^remony  of  introduction,  with  all  due  formali- 
ties, Mr.  Pickwick  had  leisure  to  observe  the  appearance,  and  speculate 
upon  the  characters  and  pursuits,  of  the  persons  by  whom  he  was  sur- 
rounded— a  habit  in  which  he,  in  common  with  many  other  great  men, 
delighted  to  indulge. 

A  very  old  lady,  in  a  lofty  cap  and  faded  silk  gown — no  less  a  per- 
sonage than  Mr.  Wardle's  mother — occupied  the  post  of  honour  on  the 
right-hand  corner  of  the  chimney-piece  ;  and  various  certificates  of  her 
having  been  brought  up  in  the  way  she  should  go  when  young,  and  of 
her  not  having  departed  from  it  when  old,  ornamented  the  walls.  h\ 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  59 

the  forms  of  samplers  of  ancient  date,  worsted  landscapes  of  equal  an- 
tiquity, and  crimson  silk  tea-kettle  holders  of  a  more  modern  period. 
The  aunt,  the  two  young  ladies,  and  Mr.  Wardle,  each  vying  with 
the  other  in  paying  zealous  and  unremitting  attentions  to  the  old  lady, 
crowded  round  her  easy  chair,  one  holding  her  ear- trumpet,  another 
an  orange,  and  a  third  a  smelling-bottle,  while  a  fourth  was  busily  en- 
gaged in  patting  and  punching  the  pil!«ws  which  were  arranged  for 
her  support.  On  the  opposite  side,  sat  a  bald-headed  old  gentleman, 
with  a  good-humoured,  benevolent  face — the  clergyman  of  Dingley 
Dell ;  and  next  him  sat  his  wife,  a  stout,  blooming  old  lady,  who  looked 
as  if  she  were  well  skilled,  not  only  in  the  art  and  mystery  of  manu- 
facturing home-made  cordials  greatly  to  other  people's  satisfaction,  but 
of  tasting  them  occasionally  very  much  to  her  own.  A  little  hard- 
headed,  Kipstone,  pippin-faced  man,  was  conversing  with  a  fat  old 
gentleman,  in  one  corner  :  and  two  or  three  more  old  gentlemen,  and 
two  or  three  more  old  ladies,  sat  bol!;-upright  and  motionless  on  their 
chairs,  staring  very  hard  at  .Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  fellow-voyagers. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick,"  mother,"'  said  Mr.  Wardle  at  the  very  top  of  his 
voice. 

"  Ah  !''  said  the  old  lady  shaking  her  head  ;  "  I  can't  hear  you." 

"  Mr.  Pickwick,  grandma !"  screamed  botji  the  young  ladies  together. 

"  Ah  I"  exclaimed  the  old  lady.  "  Well ;  it  don't  much  matter.  He 
don't  care  for  an  old  'ooman  like  )ne,  I  dare  say." 

"  I  assure  you,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  grasping  the  old  lady's 
hand ;  and  speaking  so  loud  that  the  exertion  imparted  a  crimson  hue 
to  his  benevolent  countenance  ;  "  I  assure  >ou,  ma'am,  that  nothing 
delights  me  more,  than  to  see  a  lady  of  your  time  of  life  heading  so  fine 
a  family,  and  looking  so  young  and  well." 

"  Ah  '."'  said  the  old  lady,  after  a  short  pause,  "  it's  all  very  fine,  I 
dare  say;   but  I  can't  hear  him." 

"  Grandma's  rather  put  out  now,"  said  Miss  Isabella  Wardle,  in  a 
low  tone  ;  but  she'll  talk  to  you  piesently." 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  his  readiness  to  humour  the  infirmities  of  age, 
and  entered  into  a  general  conversation  with  the  other  members  of  the 
circle. 

"  Delightful  situation,  this,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Delightful  I"  echoed  Messrs.  Snodgrass,  Tupman,  and  Winkle. 

"  Well,  I  think  it  is,"  said  .Mr.  Wardle. 

"  There  ain't  a  better  spot  o'  ground  in  all  Keint,  sir,"  said  the  hard- 
headed  man  with  the  pippin-face  ;  "  there  ain't,  indeed,  sir — Pm  sure 
there  ain't,  sir  ;''  and  the  hard-headed  man  looked  triumphantly  round, 
as  if  he  had  been  very  much  contradicted  by  somebody,  but  had  got 
the  better  of  him  at  last. 

"  There  ain't  a  better  spot  o'  ground  in  all  Kent,"  said  the  hard- 
headed  man  again,  after  a  pause. 

"  'Cept  .Mullins'  meadows,"  obsers'ed  the  fat  man,  solemnly. 

♦'  Mullins'  meadows  I"  ejaculated  the  other,  with  profound  contempt. 

"Ah,  Mullins'  meadows,"  repeated  the  fat  man. 

"  Reg'lar  good  land,  that,"  interposed  another  fat  man. 

"  And  so  it  is,  surely,"  said  a  third  fat  man. 

"  Every  body  knows  that,"  said  the  corpulent  host. 

The  hard-headed  man  looked  dubiously  round,  but  finding  himself  in 
-^  minority,  assumed  a  compassionate  air,  and  said  no  more. 

"  What  are  they  talking  about !"  inquired  the  old  lildy  of  one  of  her 


60 


POSTHUMODS    PAPERS    OT 


grand-daughters,  in  a  very  audible  voice  ;  for,  like  many  deaf  people, 
she  never  seemed  to  calculate  on  the  possibility  of  other  persohs  hear- 
ing what  she  said  herself 

"  About  the  land,  grandma." 

"  What  about  the  land  '     Nothing  the  matter,  is  there  1" 

"  No,  no.  Mr.  Miller  was  saying  our  land  was  better  than  Mullins' 
meadows."  • 

"  How  should  he  know  any  thing  abou^  it  1"  inquired  the  old  lady, 
indignantly.  "  Miller's  a  conceited  coxcomb,  and  you  may  tell  him  I 
said  so."  Saying  which,  the  old  lady,  quite  unconscious  that  she  had 
spoken  above  a  whisper,  drew  herself  up,  and  looked  carving  knives  at 
the  hard-headed  delinquent. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  the  bustling  host,  with  a  natural  anxiety  to 
change  of  conversation, — "  What  say  you  to  a  rubber,  Mr.  Pickwickl" 

"  I  should  like  it  of  all  things,"  replied  that  gentleman  ;  "  but  pray 
don't  make  up  one  on  my  account." 

"  Oh,  I  assure  you,  mother's  very  fond  of  a  rubber,"  said  Mr.  Wardle ; 
"ain't  you  mother]" 

The  old  lady  who  was  much  less  deaf  on  this  subject  than  on  any 
other,  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

•  "  Joe,  Joe,"  said  the  old  gentleman — "  Joe — oh,  here  he  is  ;  put  out 
the  card-tables." 

The  lethargic  youth  contrived,  without  any  additional  rousing,  to  set 
out  two  card-tables  ;  the  one  for  Pope  Joan,  and  the  other  for  whist. 
The  whist-players  weie,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  the  old  lady  ;  Mr.  Miller 
and  the  fat  gentleman.  The  round  game  comprised  the  rest  of  the 
company.  * 

The  rubber  was  conducted  with  all  the  gravity  of  deportment,  and 
sedateness  of  demeanour,  which  befit  the  pursuit  entitled  "  whist" — a 
solemn  observance,  to  which,  as  it  appears  to  us,  the  title  of  "  game" 
has  been  very  irreverently  and  ignominiously  applied.  The  round- 
game  table,  on  the  other  hand,  was  so  boisterously  merry,  as  materially 
to  interrupt  the  contemplations  of  Mr.  Miller,  who  not  being  quite  so 
much  absorbed  as  he  ought  to  have  been,  contrived  to  commit  various 
high  crimes  and  misdemeanours,  which  excited  the  wrath  of  the  fat 
gentleman  to  a  very  great  extent,  and  called  forth  the  good  humour  of 
the  old  lady  in  a  proportionate  degree. 

"  There  !"  said  the  criminal  Miller  triumphantly,  as  he  took  up  the 
odd  trick  at  the  conclusion  of  a  hand  ;  "  that  could  not  have  been 
played  better,  I  flatter  myself; — impossible  to  have  made  another 
trick!" 

*'  Miller  ought  to  have  trumped  his  diamond,  oughtn't  he  sir?"  said 
the  old  lady. 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  assent. 

"  iJught  I,  though?'  said  the  unfortunate,  with  a  doubtful  appeal  to 
his  partner. 

"  You  ought,  sir,"  Said  the  fat  gentleman  in  an  awful  yoice. 

*' Very  sorry,"  said  the  crest  fallen  Miller. 

"Much  use  that,"  growled  the  fat  gentleman. 

"  Two,  by  honours — make  us  eight,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Another  hand.     "  Can  you  one  !"  inquired  the  old  lady. 

•'  I  can,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  Double,  single,  and  the  rub." 

"  Never  was  such  luck,''  said  Mr.  Miller. 

*'  Never  Weis  stich  cards,"  said  the  fat  gentleman. 


THE   PICKWICK  CLtTB.  61 

A  solemn  silence  ;  Mr.  Pickwick  humorous,  the  old  lady  serious,  the 
fat  gentleman  captious,  and  .Mr.  Miller  timorous. 

"Another  double,"  said  the  old  lady:  triumphantly  making  a 
memorandum  of  the  circumstance,  by  placing  one  sixpence  and  a 
battered  half-penny,  under  the  candlestick. 

'*  A  double,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

•'  Quite  aware  of  the  fact,  sir,"  replied  the  fat  gentleman  sharply. 

Another  game,  with  a  similar  result,  was  followed  by  a  revoke  from 
the  unlucky  Miller  ;  on  which  the  fat  gentleman  burst  into  a  state  of 
high  personal  excitement  which  lasted  until  the  conclusion  of  the  game, 
when  he  retired  into  a  corner,  and  remained  perfectly  mute  for  one  hour 
and  twenty-seven  minutes  ;  at  the  end  of  which  time  he  emerged  from 
his  retirement,  and  ofTored  Mj.  Pickwick  a  pinch  of  snuff  with  the  air 
of  a  man  who  had  made  up  his  mind  to  a  Christian  forgiveness  of  inju- 
ries sustained.  The  old  lady's  hearing  decidedly  improved,  and  the  un- 
lucky .Miller  felt  as  muchoutof  his  element,  as  adolphin  in  a  sentry-box. 

Meanvvhile  the  round  game  proceeded  right  merrily.  Isabella 
Wardle  and  .Mr.  Trundle  "  went  partners,"  and  Emily  Wardle  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass  did  the  same  ;  and  even  Mr.  Tupman  and  the  spinster 
aunt  established  a  joint-stock  company  of  fish  and  flattery.  Old  Mr. 
Wardle  was  in  the  very  height  of  his  jollity  ;  and  he  was  so  funny  in 
his  management  of  the  board,  and  the  old  ladies  were  so  sharp  after 
their  winnings,  that  the  whole  table  wa.s  in  a  perpetual  roar  of  merri- 
ment and  laughter.  There  was  one  old  lady  who  always  had  about 
half-a-dozen  cards  to  pay  for,  at  which  every  body  laughed  regularly 
every  round  ;  and  when  the  old  lady  looked  cross  at  having  to  pay, 
they  laughed  louder  than  ever  ;  on  which  the  old  lady's  face  gradually 
brightened  up,  till  at  last  she  laughed  louder  than  any  of  them.  Then, 
when  the  spinster  aunt  got  •'  matrimony,"  the  young  ladies  laughed 
afresh,  and  the  spinster  aunt  seemed  disposed  to  be  pettish  ;  till,  feel- 
ing Mr.  Tupman  squeezing  her  hand  under  the  table,  she  brightened 
up  too,  and  looked  rather  knowing,  as  if  matrimony  in  reality  were  not 
quite  so  far  off  as  some  people  thought  for ;  whereupon  every  body 
laughed  again,  and  especially  old  Mr.  Wardle,  who  enjoyed  a  joke  as 
much  as  the  youngest.  As  to  Mr.  Snodgrass  he  did  nothing  but 
whisper  poetical  sentiments  into  his  partner's  ear,  which  made  one  old 
gentleman  facetiously  sly,  about  partnerships  at  cards,  and  partner- 
ships for  life,  and  caused  the  aforesaid  old  gentleman  to  make  some 
remarks  thereupon,  accompanied  with  divers  winks  and  chuckles, 
which  made  the  company  very  merry  and  the  old  gentleman's  wife 
esf>ecia!ly  so.  And  Mr.  Winkle  came  out  with  jokes  which  were  very 
well  known  in  town,  but  are  not  at  all  known  in  the  country  ;  and  as 
every  body  laughed  at  them  very  heartily  and  said  they  were  \ery 
capital,  Mr.  Winkle  was  in  a  state  of  great  honour  and  glory.  And 
the  benevolent  clergyman  looked  pleasantly  on  ;  for  the  happy  fax?es 
which  surrounded  the  table  made  the  good  old  man  feel  happy  too  ; 
and  though  the  merriment  was  rather  boisterous,  still  it  came  from  the 
Iieart  and  not  from  the  lips ;  and  this  is  the  right  sort  of  merriment, 
after  all. 

The  evening  glided  swiftly  away,  in  these  cheerful  recreations  ;  and 
when  the  substantial,  though  homely  supper  had  been  despatched,  and 
the  little  party  formed  a  social  circle  round  the  fire,  Mr.  Pickwick 
thought  he  had  never  felt  so  happy  in  his  life,  and  at  no  time  so  much 
disposed  to  enjoy,  and  make  the  most  of  the  passing  moments. 

Vol.  I.— 6 


63  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

•'Now  this,"  said  the  hospitable  host,  who  was  sitting  in  great 
«tate  next  the  old  lady's  arm-chair,  with  her  hand  fast  clasped  in  his — 
•'  This  is  just  what  I  like — the  happiest  moments  of  my  life  have  been 
passed  at  this  old  fire-side  :  and  I  am  so  attached  to  it,  that  I  keep  up 
a  blazing  fire  here  every  evening,  until  it  actually  grows  too  hot  to 
bear  it.  Why,  my  poor  old  mother,  here,  used  to  sit  before  this  fire- 
place upon  that  Utile  stool,  when  she  was  a  girl — didn't  you,  mother  1" 

The  tear  which  starts  unbidden  to  the  eye  when  the  recollection  of 
old  times  and  the  happiness  of  many  years  ago,  is  suddenly  recalled, 
stole  down  the  old  lady's  face,  as  she  shook  her  head  with  a  melan- 
choly smile. 

"You  must  excuse  my  talking  about  this  old  place,  Mr.  Pickwick," 
resumed  the  host,  after  a  short  pause — "  for  I  love  it  dearly,  and  know 
no  other — the  old  houses  antl  fields  seem  like  living  friends  to  me  :  and 
so  docs  our  little  church  with  the  ivy,  about  which,  by-the-by,  our  ex- 
cellent friend  there,  made  a  song  when  he  first  came  among  us.  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  have  you  any  thing  in  your  glass  !" 

'•  Plenty,  thank  you,"  replied  that  gentleman,  whose  poetic  curiosity 
had  been  greatly  excited  by  the  last  observation  of  his  entertainer.  "  I 
beg  your  pardon,  but  you  were  talking  about  the  song  of  the  Ivy." 

"  You  must  ask  our  friend  opposite  about  that,"  said  the  host,  know- 
ingly :  indicating  the  clerjjyman  by  a  nod  of  his  head. 

"May  I  say  that  I  should  liku  to  hear  you  repeat  it,  sirl"  said  Mr. 
Snodgrass. 

"  Why  really,"  replied  the  clergyman,  "it's  a  very  slight  affair  ;  and 
the  only  excuse  I  have  for  having  ever  perpetrated  it  is,  that  I  was  a 
young  man  at  the  tinie.  Such  as  it  is,  however,  you  shall  hear  it,  if 
jou  wish." 

A  murmur  of  curiosity  was  of  course  the  reply  ;  and  the  old  gentle- 
man proceeded  to  recite  with  the  aid  of  sundry  promptings  from  his 
wife,  the  lines  in  question.     "  I  call  them,"  said  he, 

THE  IVY  GREEN. 

Oh,  a  dainty  plant  is  the  h-y  green. 

That  creepeth  o'er  ruins  old  ! 

Of  right  choice  food  arc  his  meals,  I  ween. 

In  his  cell  so  lone  and  cold. 

The  wall  must  be  crumbled,  the  stone  decayed, 

To  pleasure  his  dainty  whim  : 

And  the  mouldering  dust  that  years  have  made, 

Is  a  merry  meal  for  him. 

Creeping  where  no  life  is  seen, 

A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 

Fast  he  stealeth  on,  though  he  wears  no  wings, 

And  a  stanch  old  heart  has  he. 

How  closely  he  twineth,  how  tight  he  clings, 

To  his  friend  the  huge  Oak  Tree  ! 

And  slily  he  trailelh  along  the  ground, 

And  his  leaves  he  gently  waves. 

As  he  joyously  hugs  and  crawleth  round 

The  rich  mould  of  dead  men's  graves. 

Creeping  where  grim  death  has  been, 

A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 

Whole  ages  have  fled  and  their  works  decayed, 
And  nations  have  scattered  been  ; 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  03 

But  the  stout  old  Ivy  shall  never  fade, 

From  its  hale  and  hearty  green. 

The  brave  old  plant  in  its  lonely  days, 

Shall  fatten  upon  the  past : 

For  the  stateliest  b'lilding  man  can  raise, 

Is  the  Ivy's  food  at  last. 

Creeping  on,  where  time  has  been, 

A  rare  old  plant  is  the  Ivy  green. 

While  the  old  gentleman  repeated  these  lines  a  second  time,  to  ena- 
ble Mr.  Snod^rass  to  note  them  down,  Mr.  Pickwick  perused  the  linea- 
ments of  his  face  with  an  expression  of  great  interest.  The  old  gen- 
tleman having  concluded  his  dictation,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  having 
returned  his  note-book  to  his  pocket,  Mr   Pickwick  said, — 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  for  making  the  remark  on  so  short  an  acquaint- 
ance ;  but  a  gentleman  like  yourself  cannot  fail,  I  should  think,  to  have 
observed  many  scenes  and  incidents  worth  recording,  in  the  course  of 
your  experience  ais  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  " 

"I  have  witnessed  some,  certainly,"  replied  the  old  gentleman  ;  "but 
the  incidents  and  characters  have  betn  of  a  homely  and  ordinary 
nature,  my  sphere  of  action  being  so  very  limited." 

"  You  did  make  some  notes,  I  think,  about  John  Edmunds,  did  you 
not !"  inquired  Mr.  Wardle.  who  appeared  very  desirous  to  draw  his 
friend  out,  for  the  edification  of  his  new  visiters. 

The  old  gentleman  slightly  nodded  his  head  in  token  of  assent,  and 
was  proceeding  to  change  the  subject,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  said, — 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir  ;  but  pray,  if  I  may  venture  to  inquire,  who 
was  John  Edmunds  V 

"  The  very  thing  I  was  about  to  ask,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  eagerly. 

"You  are  fairly  in  for  it,*'  said  the  jolly  host.  "You  must  satisfy 
the  curiosity  of  these  gentlemen,  sooner  or  later  ;  so  you  had  better  take 
advantage  of  this  favourable  opportunity,  and  do  so  at  once  " ' 

The  old  gentleman  smiled  good-humourediy  as  he  drew  his  chair 
forward  ; — the  remainder  of  the  party  drew  their  chairs  closer  together, 
especially  Mr.  Tupman  and  the  spinster  aunt,  who  were  possibly  rather 
hard  of  hearing-,  and  the  old  lady's  ear-trumpet  having  been  duly 
adjusted,  and  .Ntr.  Miller  (who  had  fallen  asleep  during  the  recital  of 
the  verses)  roused  from  his  slumbers  by  an  admonitory  pinch,  adminis- 
tered beneath  the  table  by  his  ex-partner  the  solemn  fat  man,  the  old 
gentleman,  without  farther  preface,  commenced  the  following  talc,  to 
which  we  have  taken  the  liberty  of  prefixing  the  title  of 

THE  CONVICTS  RETUPvX. 

*'  When  I  first  settled  in  this  village,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  *'  which 
is  now  just  five-and-twenty  years  ago,  the  most  notorious  perpon 
among  my  {)arisliioners  was  a  man  of  the  name  of  Edmunds,  who  leased 
a  small  farm  near  this  spot.  He  was  a  morose,  savage-hearte<l,  bad 
man  :  idle  and  dissolute  in  his  habits  ;  cruel  and  ferocious  in  his  dis- 
position. Beyond  the  few  lazy  and  reckless  vaj^abonds  with  whom  he 
sauntered  away  his  time  in  the  fields,  or  sotted  in  the  ale-house,  he  had 
not  a  single  friend  or  acquaintance  ;  no  one  cared  to  speak  to  the  man 
whom  many  feared,  and  every  one  detested — and  Edmunds  was  shun- 
ned by  all. 

''  This  man  had  a  wife  and  one  son,  who,  when  I  first  came  hero, 


G4-  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  Or 

was  about  twelve  vcars  old.  Of  the  acuteness  of  that  woman*s  suffer- 
ings, of  the  gentle  and  enduring  manner,  in  which  she  bnre  them,  of 
tlie  agony  of  solicitude  with  which  she  reared  that  boy,  no  one  can  form 
an  adequate  conception.  Heaven  forgive  me  the  supposition,  if  it  be- 
an uncharitable  one,  but  I  Jo  firmly  and  in  my  soul  believe,  that  the 
man  systematically  tried  for  many  years  to  break  her  heart ;  but  she 
bore  it  all  for  her  child's  sake,  and  however  strange  it  may  seem  to 
many,  for  his  father's  too  ;  for  brute  as  he  was,  and  cruelly  as  he 
treated  her,  she  had  loved  him  once  ;  and  the  recollections  of  what  he 
had  been  to  her,  awakened  feelings  of  forbearance  and  meekness  under 
suffering  in  her  bosom,  to  which  all  God's  creatures  but  women  are 
strangers. 

"  They  were  poor — they  could  not  be  otherwise  when  the  man-  pur- 
sued such  courses  ;  but  the  woman's  unceasing  and  unwearied  exer- 
tions, early  and  late,  morning,  noon,  and  night,  kept  them  above  actual 
want.  These  exertions  were  but  ill  repaid.  People  who  passed  the 
spot  in  the  evening — some  time  at  a  late  hour  of  the  night — reported 
that  they  had  heard  the  moans  and  sobs  of  a  woman  in.  distress,  and 
the  sound  of  blows  ;  and  more  than  once,  when  it  was  past  midnight, 
the  boy  knocked  softly  at  the  door  of  a  neighbour's  house  whither  he 
had  been  sent,  to  escape  the  drunken  fury  of  his  unnatural  father: 

"  During  the  whole  of  this  time,  and  when  ihe  poor  creature  often 
bore  about  her  marks  of  ill  usage  and  violence  which  she  could  not 
wholly  conceal,  she  was  a  constant  attendant  at  our  little  church. 
Regularly  every  Sunday,  morning  and  afternoon,  she  occupied  the 
same  seat  with  the  boy  at  her  side  ;  and  though  they  were  both  poorly 
dresseJ, — much  more  so  than  many  of  their  neighbours  who  were  in 
a  lower  station — they  wore  always  neat  and  clean.  Every  one  had  a 
friendly  riod  and  a  kind  word  for  '  poor  Mrs.  Edmunds^'  and  some- 
times, when  she  stopped  to  exchange  a  few  words  with  a  neighbour  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  service  in  the  little  row  of  elm-trees  which  leads 
to  the  church  porch,  or  lingered  behind  to  gaze  with  a  mother's  pride 
and  fondness  upon  her  healthy  boy,  as  he  sported  before  her  with 
some  little  companions,  her  care-worn  face  would  lighten  up  with  an 
expression  of  heartfelt  gratitude  ;  and  she  would  look,  if  not  cheerful 
and  happy,  at  least  tranquil  and  contented. 

"  Five  or  six  years  passed  away  ;  the  boy  had  become  a  robust  and 
well-grown  youth.  The  time  that  had  strengthened  the  child's  slight 
frame,  and  knit  his  weak  limbs  into  the  strength  of  manhood,  had 
bowed  his  mother's  form,  and  enfeebled  her  steps  :  but  the  arm  that 
should  have  supported  her  was  no  longer  locked  in  hers  ;  the  face  that 
should  have  cheered  her,  no  more  looked  upon  her  own.  She  occu- 
pied her  old  seat,  but  there  was  a  vacant  one  beside  her.  The  Bible 
was  kept  as  carefully  as  ever,  the  places  were  fnmd  and  folded  down 
as  they  used  to  be  ;  but  there  was  no  one  to  read  it  with  her — and  the 
tears  fell  thick  and  fast  upon  the  book,  and  blotted  the  words  from  her 
eyes.  Neighbours  were  as  kind  as  they  were  wont  to  be  of  Ai\,  but 
she  shunned  their  greetings  with  averted  head.  There  was  no  linger- 
ing among  the  old  elm-trees  now — no  cheering  anticipations  of  happi- 
ness yet  in  store.  The  desolate  woman  drew  her  bonnet  closer  over 
her  face,  and  walked  hurriedly  away. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  that  the  young  man,  who,  looking  back  to  the 
earliest  of  his  childhood's  days  to  which  memory  and  consciousness 
wtended,  and  carrying  bis.  recollection  down  to  that  moment,  could  re- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLOB.  65 

member  nothing  which  was  not  in  some  way  connected  with  a  long  series 
of  voluntary  privations  suflered  by  his  mother  for  his  sake,  with  ill 
usage,  and  insult,  and  violence,  and  all  endured  fur  him  : — shall  I  tell 
you,  that  he,  with  a  reckless  disregard  of  her  breaking  heart,  and  a 
sullen  wilful  forgotfulness  of  all  she  had  done  and  borne  for  him,  had 
linked  himself  with  depraved  and  abandoned  men,  and  was  madly 
pursuing  a  headlong  career,  which  must  bring  death  to  him,  and 
shame  to  her  !  Alas  for  human  nature  !  You  have  anticipated  it 
long  since. 

"The  measure  of  the  unhappy  woman's  misery  and  misfortune  was 
about  to  be  completed.  Numerous  ofl'ences  had  been  committed  in 
the  neighbourhood  :  the  perpetrators  remained  undiscovered,  and  their 
boldness  increased.  A  robbery  of  a  daring  and  aggravated  nature 
occasioned  a  vigilance  of  pursuit,  and  a  strictness  of  search,  they  had 
not  calculated  on.  Young  Edmunds  was  suspected  with  three  com- 
panions.    He  was  apprehended — committed — tried — condemned  to  die. 

"  The  wild  and  piercing  shriek  from  a  woman's  voice,  which  re- 
sounded through  the  court  when  the  solemn  sentence  was  pronounced, 
rings  in  my  ears  at  this  moment.  That  cry  struck  a  terror  to  the 
culprit's  heart,  which  trial,  condemnation,  the  approach  of  death  itsrlf, 
had  failed  to  awaken.  The  lips,  which  had  been  compressed  in 
dogged  suUenness  throughout,  quivered  and  parted  involuntarily  ;  the 
face  turned  ashy  pale,  as  the  cold  perspiration  broke  forth  from  every 
pore  ;  the  sturdy  limbs  of  the  felon  trembled,  and  he  staggered  in  the 
dock. 

"  In  the  first  transports  of  her  mental  anguish,  the  saflfering  mother 
threw  herself  upon  her  knees  at  my  feet,  and  fervently  besought  the 
Almighty  Being,  who  had  hitherto  supported  her  in  all  her  troubles, 
to  release  her  from  a  world  of  wo  and  misery,  and  to  spare  the  life  of 
her  only  child.  A  burst  of  grief,  and  a  violent  struggle,  such  as  I  hope 
I  may  never  have  to  witness  again,  succeeded.  I  knew  ihat  her  heart 
was  breaking  from  that  hour ;  but  I  never  once  heard  complaint  or 
murmur  escape  her  lips. 

"  It  was  a  piteous  spectacle  to  see  that  woman  in  the  prison-yard 
from  day  to  day,  eagerly  and  fervently  attempting,  by  affection  and 
entreaty,  to  soften  the  hard  heart  of  her  obdurate  son.  It  was  in  vain. 
He  remained  moody,  obstinate,  and  unmoved.  JN'ot  even  the  unlook- 
ed-for commutation  of  his  sentence  to  transportation  for  fourteen  years, 
softened  for  an  instant  the  sullen  hardihood  of  his  demeanour. 

"  But  the  spirit  of  resignation  and  endurance  that  had  so  long  up- 
held her,  was  unable  to  contend  against  bodily  weakness  and  infirmity. 
She  fell  sick.  She  dragged  her  tottering  limbs  from  the  bed  to  visit 
her  son  once  more,  but  her  strength  failed  her,  and  she  sunk  powerless 
on  the  ground. 

"  And  now  the  boasted  coldness  and  indifference  of  the  young  man 
were  tested  indeed  ;  and  the  retribution  that  fell  heavily  upon  him, 
jjcarly  drove  him  mad.  A  day  passed  away,  and  his  mother  was  not 
there  ;  another  flew  by,  and  she  came  not  near  him  ;  a  third  evening 
arrived,  and  yet  he  had  not  seen  her;  and  in  fbur-and-twenty  hotn-d, 
he  was  to  be  separated  from  her — perhaps  for  ever.  Oh  !  how  the 
long  forgotten  thoughts  of  former  davs  rushed  upon  his  mind,  as  he 
almost  ran  up  and  down  the  narrow  yard — as  if  intelligence  would  ar- 
rive the  sooner  for  his  hurrying  ;  and  how  bitterly  a  sense  of  his  help- 
lessness and  desolation  rushed  upon  him  when  he  h«ard  the  truth ! 


6d  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

His  mother,  the  only  parent  he  had  ever  known,  ky  ill — it  miglit  be, 
ilyinij — within  one  mile  of  the  ground  he  stood  on  :  were  he  free  ami 
unfettered,  a  few  minutes  would  place  him  by  her  side.  He  rushed 
to  the  gate,  and,  grasping  the  iron  rails  with  the  energy  of  desperation, 
shook  it  till  it  rang  again,  and  threw  himself  against  the  thick  wall  as 
if  to  force  a  passage  through  the  stone  ;  but  the  strong  building  mocked 
his  feeble  efforts,  and  he  beat  his  hands  together  and  wept  like  a 
child. 

"  I  bore  the  mother's  forgiveness  and  blessing  to  her  son  in  prison  ; 
and  I  carried  his  solemn  assurance  of  repentance,  and  his  fervent  sup- 
plication for  pardon,  to  her  side  bed.  I  heard,  with  pity  and  compas- 
sion, the  repentant  man  devise  a  thousand  little  plans  for  her  comfort 
and  support,  when  he  returned  ;  but  I  knew  that  many  months  before 
lie  could  reach  his  place  of  destination,  his  mother  would  be  no  longer 
of  this  world. 

♦'  He  was  removed  by  night.  A  few  weeks  afterwards  the  poor  wo- 
man's soul  took  its  flight,  I  confidently  hope,  and  solemnly  believe,  to 
a  place  of  eternal  happiness  and  rest.  I  performed  the  burial  service 
over  her  remains.  .She  lies  in  our  little  church-yard.  There  is  no 
stone  at  her  grave's  head.  Her  sorrows  were  known  to  man  ;  her 
virtues  to  God. 

*'  It  had  been  arranged  previously  to  the  convict's  departure,  that  he 
should  write  to  his  mother  as  soon  as  he  could  obtain  permission,  and 
that  the  letter  should  be  addressed  to  me.  The  father  had  positively 
refused  to  see  his  son  from  the  moment  of  his  apprehension  ;  and  it 
was  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him  whether  he  lived  or  died.  Many 
years  passed  over  without  any  intelligence  of  him  ;  and  when  more 
than  half  his  term  of  transportation  had  expired,  and  I  had  received  no 
letter,  I  concluded  him  to  be  dead,  as,  indeed,  I  almost  hoped  he 
might  be. 

"  Edmunds,  however,  had  been  sent  a  considerable  distance  up  the 
country,  on  his  arrival  at  the  settlement  ;  and  to  this  circumstance, 
perhaps,  may  be  attributed  the  fact,  that  though  several  letters  were 
despatched,  none  of  them  ever  reached  my  hands.  He  remained  in  the 
same  place  during  the  whole  fourteen  years.  At  the  expiration  of  the 
term,  steadily  adhering  to  his  old  resolution,  and  the  pledge  he  gave  his 
mother,  he  made  his  way  back  to  England  amidst  innumerable  dif- 
liculties,  and  returned,  on  foot,  to  his  native  place. 

♦'  On  a  fine  Sunday  evening,  in  the  month  of  August,  John  Edmunds 
set  foot  in  the  village  he  had  left  with  shame  and  disgrace  seventeen 
years  before.  His  nearest  way  lay  through  the  church-yard.  The 
man's  heart  swelled  as  he  crossed  the  stile.  The  tall  old  elms,  through 
whose  branches  the  declining  sun  cast  here  and  there  a  rich  ray  of  light 
upon  the  shady  path,  awakened  the  associations  of  his  earliest  days. 
He  pictured  himself  as  he  was  then,  clinging  to  his  mother's  hand,  and 
walking  peacefully  to  churcli.  He  remembered  how  he  used  to  look 
up  into  her  pale  face  ;  and  how  her  eyes  would  sometimes  fill  with 
tears  as  she  p-azcd  upon  his  features — tears,  which  fell  hot  upon  his 
forehead  as  she  stooped  to  kiss  him,  and  made  him  weep  too,  although  he 
little  knew  then  what  bitter  tears  hers  were.  He  thought  how  often  he 
had  run  merrily  down  that  path  with  some  childish  j,layfcllow,  looking 
back,  ever  and  again,  to  catch  his  mother's  smile,  or  hear  her  gentle  voice; 
and  then  a  veil  seemed  lifted  from  his  memory,  and  words  of  kind- 
ness unrequited,  and  warnings  despised,  and  promises  broken,  thronged 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


G7 


upon  hia  recollection  till  bis  heart  failed  him,  and  he  could  bear  it  no 
longer. 

''  He  entered  the  church.  The  evening  service  \vas  concluded,  and 
the  congregation  had  dispersed  ;  but  it  was  not  yet  closed.  Hiii  steps 
echoed  through  the  low  building  wiih  a  hollow  sound,  and  he  al.Tiost 
feared  to  be  alone,  it  was  so  still  and  quiet.  He  lookeil  round  him. 
Nothing  was  changed.  The  place  seemed  smaller  than  it  used  to  be  ; 
but  there  were  the  old  monuments  on  which  he  had  gazed  wilii  childisli 
awe  a  thousand  times  ;  the  little  pulpit^  with  its  faded  cusliion  ;  the 
communion  table,  before  which  he  had  so  often  repeated  the  Coaiujand- 
inents  he  had  reverenced  aa  a  child,  and  forgotten  as  a  man.  He  ap- 
proached the  old  seat ;  it  looked  cold  and  desolate.  The  cu.shion  had 
been  removed,  and  the  Bible  was  not  there.  Perhaps  his  mother  now- 
occupied  a  poorer  seat,  or  possibly  she  had  grown  inhrm,  and  could  not 
reach  the  church  alone.  He  dared  not  think  of  what  he  feared.  A 
cold  feeling  crept  over  him,  and  he  trembled  violently,  as  he  turned 
away.  An  old  man  entered  the  porch  just  as  he  reached  it.  Ed- 
munds started  back,  for  he  knew  him  well  ;  many  a  time  had  be 
watched  him  digging  graves  in  the  church-yard.  What  would  he  ssy 
to  the  returned  convict  ■  The  old  man  raised  his  eyes  to  the  stranger" :* 
face,  baiJe  him  '  good  evening,'  and  walked  slowly  on.  He  had  forgot- 
ten him. 

"  He  walked  down  the  hill,  and  through  the  village.  The  weather 
was  warm,  and  the  people  were  sitting  at  their  doors,  or  strolling  in 
their  little  gardens,  as  he  passed,  enjoying  the  serenity  of  the  evening, 
and  their  rest  from  labour.  Many  a  look  was  turned  towards  him, 
and  many  a  doubtful  glance  he  cast  on  either  side  to  see  whether  any 
knew  and  shunned  him.  There  were  strange  faces  in  almost  cvery 
house  ;  in  some  he  recognised  the  burly  form  of  some  old  school- 
fellow,— a  boy  when  he  last  saw  him, — surrounded  by  a  troop  of 
merry  children  ;  in  others  he  saw,  seated  in  an  easy-chair  at  the  cot- 
tage door,  a  feeble  and  infirm  old  man,  whom  he  only  remembered  as  a 
hale  and  hearty  labourer :  but  they  had  all  forgotten  him,  and  he 
passed  on  unknown. 

"  The  last  soft  light  of  the  setting  sun  had  fallen  on  the  earth,  cast- 
ing a  rich  glow  on  the  yellow  com  sheaves,  and  lengthening  the  shadows 
of  the  orchard  trees  as  he  stood  before  the  old  house — the  home  of  his 
infancy,  to  which  his  heart  had  yearned  with  an  intensity  of  alTection 
not  to  be  described,  through  long  and  wearied  years  of  captivity  and 
sorrow.  The  paling  was  low — though  he  well  remembered  the  lime 
when  it  had  seemed  a  high  wall  to  him  ;  and  he  looked  over  into  the 
old  garden.  There  were  more  seeds  and  gayer  flowers  than  there 
used  to  be,  but  there  were  the  old  trees  still — the  very  tree  under  which 
he  had  lain  a  thousand  limes  when  tired  with  playing  in  the  sun,  and 
felt  the  soft  mild  sleep  of  happy  boyhood  steal  gently  upon  him. 
There  were  voices  within  the  house.  He  listened,  but  they  fell  strange- 
ly upon  his  ear  ;  he  knew  them  not.  They  were  merry,  too  j  and  he 
well  knew  that  his  poor  old  mother  could  not  be  cheerful  and  he  away. 
The  door  opened  ;  and  a  group  of  little  children  bounded  out,  shouting 
and  romping.  The  father,  with  a  little  boy  in  his  arms,  appeared  at 
the  door,  and  they  crowded  round  him,  clapping  their  tiny  hands,  and 
dragging  him  out,  to  join  their  joyous  sports.  The  convict  lliought  oa 
the  many  times  he  had  shrunk  from  his  father's  t>ight  iu  that  very 
place.     He  remembered  how  often  he  had  buried  lui  trembling  head 


€8 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


beneath  the  bed-clothes,  and  heard  the  harsh  word  and  the  hard  stripe, 
and  his  mother's  wailing ;  atid  though  the  man  sobbed  aloud  with 
agony  of  mind  as  he  left  the  spot,  his  fist  was  clenched,  and  his  teeth 
■were  set,  in  fierce  and  deadly  passion. 

"And  such  was  the  return  to  which  he  had  looked  through  the 
weary  perspective  of  many  years,  and  for  which  he  had  undergone  so 
much  suffering  !  No  face  of  welcome,  no  look  of  forgiveness,  no 
house  to  receive,  no  hand  to  help  him — and  this,  too,  in  the  old  village. 
What  was  his  loneliness  in  the  wild  thick  woods  where  man  was  never 
seen,  to  this  ! 

"  He  felt  that,  in  the  distant  land  of  his  bondage  and  infamy,  he  had 
thought  of  his  native  place  as  it  was  when  he  left  it — not  as  it  would 
be  when  he  returned.  The  sad  reality  struck  coldly  at  his  heart,  and 
his  spirit  sank  within  him.  He  had  not  courage  to  make  inquiries,  or 
to  present  himself  to  the  only  person  who  was  likely  to  receive  him 
with  kindness  and  compassion.  He  walked  slowly  on  ;  and  shunning 
the  road-side,  like  a  guilty  man,  turned  into  a  meadow  he  well  remem- 
bered ;  and,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands,  threw  himself  upon  the 
grass 

*'  He  bar]  not  observed  that  a  man  was  lying  on  the  bank  beside  him  ; 
his  garments  rustled  as  he  turned  round  to  steal  a  look  at  the  new 
comer;  and  Edmunds  raised  his  head. 

*'  The  man  had  moved  into  a  sitting  posture.  His  body  was  much 
bent,  and  his  face  was  wrinkled  and  yellow.  His  dress  denoted  him 
an  inmate  of  the  workhouse  :  he  had  the  appearance  of  being  very  old, 
but  it  looked  more  the  effect  of  dissipation  or  disease,  than  length  of 
years.  He  was  staring  hard  at  the  stranger — and  though  his  eyes 
were  lustreless  and  heavy  at  tirst,  they  appeared  to  glow  with  an  un- 
natural and  alarmed  expression  after  they  had  been  fixed  upon  him  for 
a  short  time,  until  they  seemed  to  be  starting  from  their  sockets. 
Edmunds  gradually  raised  himself  to  his  knees,  and  looked  more  and 
more  earnestly  upon  the  old  man's  face.  They  gazed  upon  each  other 
in  silence. 

"  The  old  man  was  ghastly  pale.  He  shuddered  and  tottered  to  his 
feet.  Edmunds  sprang  to  his.  He  stepped'  back  a  pace  or  two. 
Edmunds  advanced. 

"  '  Let  me  hear  you  speak,'  said  the  convict,  in  a  thick,  broken  voice. 
"  '  Stand  off,'  cried  the  old  man,  with  a  dreadful  oath.     The  convict 
drew  closer  to  him. 

"  '  Stand  oflV  shrieked  the  old  man.  Furious  with  terror  he  raised 
his  stick,  and  struck  Edmunds  a  heavy  blow  across  the  face. 

"  *  Father — devil,'  murmured  the  convict,  between  his  set  teeth.  He 
rushed  wildly  forward,  and  clenched  the  old  man  by  the  throat — but  he 
was  his  father ;  and  his  arm  fell  powerless  by  his  side. 

"  The  old  man  uttered  a  loud  yell  which  rang  through  the  lonely 
fields  like  the  howl  of  an  evil  spirit.  His  face  turned  black  ;  the  gore 
rushed  from  his  mouth  and  nose,  and  dyed  the  grass  a  deep  dark  red, 
as  he  staggered  and  fell.  He  had  ruptured  a  blood  vessel :  and  he  was 
a  dead  man  before  his  son  could  raise  him  from  that  thick,  sluggish  pool. 
****** 

"  In  that  corner  of  the  church-yard,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  after  a 
silence  of  a  few  moments — ''  In  that  corner  of  the  church-yard,  of 
which  I  have  before  spoken,  there  lies  buried  a  man,  who  was  in  my 
employment  for  three  years  after  this  event ;  and  who  was  truly  con- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  6^ 

trite,  penitent,  and  humbled,  if  ever  man  was.     No  one  pave  myself 

knew,  in  that  man's  lifetime,  who  he  was,  or  whence  be  came.  It  was 
John  Edmunds,  the  returned  convict." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HOW  MR.  WINKLE,  INSTEAD  OF  SHOOTING  AT  THE  P?GEnN  ANT/  KILLING  THE 
CROW,  SHOT  AT  THE  CROW  AND  WOUNDED  THK  PIGEON  ;  HOW  THE  DINO- 
LEY  DELL  CRICKET  CLUB  PLAYED  ALL  MUGGLETON,  AND  HOW  ALL  MUG- 
GLETON  DINED  AT  THE  DINGLEV  DELL  EXPENSE  :  WITH  OTHER  INTE- 
RESTING AND  INSTRUCTIVE  MATTERS. 

The  fatiguing  adventures  of  the  day,  or  the  somniferous  influence  of 
the  clergyman's  tale,  operated  so  strongly  on  the  drowsy  tendencies 
of  Mr.  Pickwick,  that,  in  less  than  five  minutes  after  he  had  been  shown 
to  his  comfortable  bed-room,  he  fell  into  a  sound  and  dreamless  sleep, 
from  which  he  was  only  awakened  by  the  morning  sun  darting  hi» 
bright  beams  reproachfully  into  the  apartment.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  no 
sluggard  ;  and  he  sprang  like  an  ardent  warrior  from  his  tent — bed- 
stead 

"  Pleasant,  pleasant  country,''  sighed  the  enthusiastic  gentleman,  as 
he  opened  his  lattice  window.  "  Who  could  live  to  gaze  from  day  to 
day  on  bricks  and  slates,  who  had  once  felt  the  influence  of  a  scene 
like  this  1  Who  could  continue  to  exist,  where  there  are  no  cows  but 
the  cows  on  the  chimney-pots  ;  nothing  redolent  of  Pan  but  pan-tiles  ; 
no  crop  but  stone  crop?  Who  could  bear  to  drag  out  a  life  in  such  a 
spot !  Who,  I  ask,  could  endure  it  :"  and  having  cross-examined  soli- 
tude after  the  most  approved  precedents,  at  considerable  length,  Mr.. 
Pickwick  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  lattice,  and  looked  round  hinx 

The  rich,  sweet  smell  of  the  hay-ricks  rose  to  his  chamber  window ; 
the  hundred  perfumes  of  the  little  flower-garden  beneath  scented  the 
air  around  ;  the  deep  green  meadows  shone  in  the  morning  dew  that 
glistened  on  every  leaf,  as  it  treml)led  in  the  gentle  air;  and  the  birds 
sang  as  if  every  sparkling  drop  were  to  them  a  fountain  of  inspiration. 
Mr   Pickwick  fell  into  an  enchanting  and  delicious  revery. 

"  Hallo  !"  was  the  sound  that  roused  him. 

He  looked  to  the  right,  but  saw  nobody  ;  his  eyes  wandered  to  the 
left,  and  pierced  the  prospect ;  he  stared  into  the  sky,  but  lie  wasn't 
wanted  there  ;  and  then  he  did  what  a  common  mind  would  have  done 
at  once — looked  into  the  garden,  and  there  saw  Mr.  Wardlf. 

"How  are  you  !"  said  that  good-humoured  individual,  out  of  breath 
with  his  own  anticipations  of  pleasure.  "  Beautiful  morning,  ain't  it? 
Glad  to  see  you  up  so  early.  Make  haste  down,  and  come  out.  I'll 
wait  for  you  here." 

Mr  Pickwick  needed  no  second  invitation.  Ten  minutes  sufficed 
for  the  completion  of  his  toilet,  and  at  the  expiration  of  that  lime  he 
was  by  the  old  gentleman's  side. 

"  Hallo  !''  said  Mr.  Pickwick  in  his  turn  :  seeing  that  his  companion 
was  armed  with  a  gun,  and  that  another  lay  ready  on  the  grass. 
*'  What's  going  forward  1" 


70 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


•'  Why,  your  friend  and  I,"  replied  the  host,  «'  are  going  out  rook- 
shooting  before  breakfast.     He's  a  very  good  shot,  ain't  hel" 

"  I've  heard  him  say  he's  a  capital  one,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  but 
I  never  saw  him  aim  at  any  thing." 

"  W«^ll,"  said  the  host,  "  I  wish  he'd  come.     Joe — Joe." 

The  fat  boy,  who  under  the  exciting  influence  of  the  morning  did  not 
appear  to  be  more  than  three  parts  and  a  fraction  asleep,  emerged  from 
the  house. 

"  Go  up  and  call  the  gentleman,  and  tell  him  he'll  find  me  and  Mr. 
Pickwick  in  the  rookery.  Show  the  gentleman  the  way  there;  d'ye 
hear?" 

The  boy  departed  to  execute  his  commission  ;  and  the  host,  carrying 
both  guns  like  a  second  Robinson  Crusoe,  led  the  way  from  the  garden. 

"  This  is  the  place,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  pausing  after  a  few 
minutes'  walking,  in  an  avenue  of  trees.  The  information  was  un- 
necessary ;  for  the  incessant  cawing  of  the  unconscious  rooks  suf- 
ficiently indicated  their  whereabout. 

The  old  gentleman  laid  one  gun  on  the  ground,  and  loaded  the  other. 

"  Here  they  are,"  said  Mr  Pickwick  ;  and  as  he  spoke,  the  forms 
of  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  .Mr.  Winkle,  appeared  in  the 
distance.  The  fat  boy,  not  being  quite  certain  which  gentleman  he 
was  directed  to  call,  had,  with  peculiar  sagacity,  and  to  prevent  the 
possibility  of  any  mistake,  called  them  all. 

"Come  along,"  shouted  the  old  gentleman,  addressing  Mr.  Winkle, 
"  a  keen  hand  like  you  ought  to  have  been  up  long  ago,  even  to  such 
poor  work  as  this." 

Mr.  Winkle  responded  with  a  forced  smile,  and  took  up  the  spare 
gun  with  an  expression  of  countenance  which  a  metaphysical  rook,  im- 
pressed with  a  foreboding  of  his  approaching  death  by  violence,  may 
be  supposed  to  assume.  It  might  have  been  keenness,  but  it  looked 
remarkably  like  misery. 

The  old  gentleman  nodded  ;  and  two  ragged  boys,  who  had  been 
marshallexi  to  the  spot  under  the  direction  of  the  infant  Lambert,  forth- 
with commenced  chmbing  up  two  of  the  trees. 

*'  What  are  those  lads  for  !"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  abruptly  He 
was  rather  alarmed  ;  for  he  was  not  quite  certain  but  that  the  distress 
of  the  agricultural  interest,  about  which  he  had  often  heard  a  great 
deal,  might  have  compelled  the  small  boys,  attached  to  the  soil,  to  earn 
a  precarious  and  hazardous  subsistence  by  making  marks  of  themselves 
for  inexperienced  sportsmen. 

"Only  to  start  the  game,"  replied  Mr.  Wardle,  laughing. 

"To  what]"  irKjuired  l^Tr.  Pickwick. 

"  Why,  in  plain  English,  to  frighten  the  rooks." 

"  Oh  !     Is  that  all  ?" 

"You  are  satisfied!'* 

"  Quite." 

"Very  well.     Shall  I  begin  ?" 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  glad  of  any  respite. 

"  Stand  aside,  then.      Now  for  it." 

The  boy  shouted,  and  shook  a  branch  with  a  nest  on  it.  Half-a-dozen 
young  rooks,  in  violent  conversation,  flew  out  to  ask  what  the  matter 
was.  The  old  gentleman  fired  by  way  of  reply.  Down  fell  one  bird, 
and  oif  flew  the  others. 

"  Take  him  up,  Joe,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  *" 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  71 

,  There  was  a  smile  upon  the  youth's  face  as  he  advanced.  Indistinct 
visionis  of  rook-pic  floated  ihrouirh  his  imagination.  He  laughed  as  he 
retired  with  the  liird — it  was  a  plump  one. 

"Now,  Mr.  Winkle,"  said  the  host,  reloading  his  own  gun,  "fire 
away." 

Mr.  Winkle  advanced,  and  levelled  his  gun.  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his 
friends  cowered  involuntarily  to  escape  damage  from  the  heavy  fa41 
of  rooks,  whicli  they  felt  quite  certain  would  be  occasioned  by  the 
devastating  barrel  of  their  friend.  There  was  a  solemn  pause — a  shout 
— a  flapping  of  wings — a  famt  click. 

*'  Hallo  I"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Won't  it  go  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Missed  fire,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  very  pale,  probably  from 
disappointment. 

"  Odil,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  taking  the  gun.  "  Never  knew  one 
of  them  to  miss  fire  before.     Why,  I  don"t  see  any  thing  of  the  cap." 

"  Bless  my  soul,"  said  Mr.  Wii«kle.     '•  I  declare  I  forgot  the  cap!" 

The  slight  omission  was  rectified.  Mr.  Pickv.ick  crouched  again. 
Mr.  Winkle  stepped  furvvard  with  an  air  of  determination  and  resolu- 
tion ;  and  Mr.  Tupinan  looked  out  from  behind  a  tree.  The  boy 
shouted  ; — four  birds  flew  out.  Mr.  Winkle  fired.  There  was  a  scream 
as  of  an  individual — not  a  rook — in  corporeal  aiiguish.  Mr.  Tupman 
had  saved  the  lives  of  innumerable  unolTending  birds,  by  receiving  a 
portion  of  the  charge  in  his  left,  arm. 

To  describe  the  confusion  that  ensued  would  be  impossible.  To  tell 
how  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  first  transports  of  his  emotion  called  Mr. 
Winkle  "  Wretch!"  how  Mr.  Tupman  lay  prostrate  on  the  gruund; 
and  how  Mr.  Winkle  knelt  horror-stricken  beside  him  ,  how  Mr.  Tup- 
man called  distractedly  upon  some  feminine  Chrisiian  name,  and  then 
opened  first  one  eye  and  then  the  other,  and  then  fell  back  and  shut 
them  both ; — all  this  would  be  as  difficult  to  describe  in  detail,  as  it 
would  be  to  depict  the  gradual  recovering  of  the  unfortunate  individual, 
the  binding  up  his  arm  with  pocket-handkerchiefs,  and  the  conveying 
him  back  by  slow  degrees^  supported  by  the  arms  of  his  anxiou.s  friends. 

They  drew  near  the  house.  The  ladies  were  at  the  garden-gate, 
waiting  for  their  arrival  and  their  breakfast.  The  spinster  aunt  ap- 
peared ;  she  smiled  ;  and  beckoned  them  to  walk  quicker.  'Twas 
evident  she  knew^  not  of  the  disaster  !  Poor  thing  !  There  are  times 
when  ignorance  is  bliss  indeed. 

They  approached  nearer. 

'•Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  the  little  old  gentleman!"  said 
Isabella  W^ardle.  The  spinster  aunt  heeded  not  the  remark  ;  she 
thought  it  applied  to  Mr.  Pickwick.  In  her  eyes  Tracy  Tupman  was 
a  youth  ;  she  viewed  his  years  through  a  diminishing  glass. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  called  out  the  old  host,  fearful  of  alarming  his 
daughters.  The  little  party  had  crowded  so  completely  round  Mr. 
Tupman,  that  they  could  not  yet  clearly  discern  the  nature  of  the  acci- 
dent. 

<'  Don't  be  frightened,"  said  the  host. 

'•  What's  the  matter  1"  screamed  the  ladies. 

*'  Mr.  Tupman  has  met  with  a  little  accident ;  that's  all." 

The  spinster  aunt  uttered  a  piercing  scream,  burst  into  an  hysteric 
laugh,  and  fell  backwards  in  the  arms  of  her  nieces. 

"  Throw  some  cold  water  over  her,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 


72  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

*«No,  no,"  murmurpil  the  spinster  aunt ;  •' I  am  better  now.  Bella, 
Emily — a  surgeon  !  Is  ho  wounded  ! — Is  he  dead  ? — Is  he — ha,  ha, 
ha,  ha  I"  Here  the  spinster  aunt  burst  into  fit  number  two  of 
hjsteric  laiighter,  interspersed  with  screams. 

"  Calm  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Tupmati,  allected  almost  to  tears  by  this 
expression  of  sympathy  with  his  suifcrings.  "  Dear,  dear  madam, 
calm  yourself." 

"  It  is  his  voice  V  exclaimed  the  spinster  aunt ;  and  strong  symp- 
toms of  fit  number  three  developed  themselves  forthwith. 

•'  Do  not  agitate  yourself,  I  entreat  you,  dearest  madam,"  said  Mr. 
Tupman,  soothingly.     "  I  am  very  little  hurt,  I  assure  you." 

"Then  you  are  not  dead  !"  ejaculated  the  hysterical  lady.  "Oh, 
say  you  are  not  dead  !" 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Rachael,"  interposed  Mr.  Wardle,  rather  more 
rouirhly  than  was  quite  consistent  with  the  poetic  nature  of  the  scene. 
«*  What  the  devil's  the  use  of  his  saying  he  isn't  dead  !" 

"No,  no,  I  am  not,"  said  Mr.  Tupman.  "  I  require  no  assistance 
but  yours.  Let  mc  lean  on  your  arm,"  he  added  in  a  whisper.  "  Oh 
Miss  Rachael  !"  The  agitated  female  advanced,  and  oflered  her  arm. 
They  turned  into  tlie  breakfast  parlour.  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  gently 
pressed  her  hand  to  liis  lips  and  sank  upon  the  sofa. 

"Arc  you  faint!"  inquired  the  an.s.ious  Rachael. 

'■  No,"  said  Mr.  Tupman.  "  It  is  nothing.  I  shall  be  better  pre- 
sently."    He  closed  his  eyes. 

"He  sleep.«,"  murmured  the  spinster  aunt.  (His  organs  of  vision 
had  been  closed  nearly  twenty  seconds.)  "  Dear — dear — Mr.  Tupman. 

Mr.  Tupman  jumped  up — "Oh,  say  those  words  again!"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

The  lady  started.  "  Surely  you  did  not  hear  them  !"  she  said  bash- 
fully. 

*'  Oh  yes  I  did,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman  ;  "  repeat  them.  If  you  would 
wish  nje  to  recover,  repeat  them." 

"Hush  I"  said  the  lady.     "  My  brother." 

Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  resumed  his  former  position  ;  and  Mr.  Wardle, 
accompanied  by  a  surgeon,  entered  the  room. 

The  arm  was  examined,  the  wound  dressed,  and  pronounced  to  be  a 
very  slight  one  ;  and  the  minds  of  the  company  having  been  thus  satis- 
fied, they  proceeded  to  satisfy  their  appetites  with  countenances  to 
which  an  expression  of  cheerfulness  was  again  restored.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick alone  was  silent  and  reserved.  Doubt  and  distrust  were  ex- 
hibited in  his  countenance.  His  confidence  in  Mr.  Winkle  had  been 
shaken — greatly  shaken — by  the  proceedings  of  the  morning. 

"Are  you  a  cricketer  T'  inquired  Mr.  Wardle  of  the  marksman. 

At  any  other  time  Mr.  Winkle  would  have  replied  in  the  affirmatiTC. 
He  felt  the  delicacy  of  his  situation,  and  modestly  replied,  "  No." 

"Arc  you,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  I  was  once  upon  a  time,"  replied  the  host:  "but  I  have  given  it 
up  now.     I  subscribe  to  the  club  here,  but  I  don't  play." 

"  Tiie  grand  match  is  played  to-day,  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'♦  It  i.s,"  replied  the  host.     "  Of  course  you  would  like  to  see  it." 

"I,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  am  delighted  to  view  any  sports 
which  may  be  safely  indulged  in,  and  in  which  the  impotent  effects  of 
unskilful  people  do  not  endanger  human  life."  Mr.  Pickwick  paused, 
and  looked  steadily  on  Mr.  Winkle,  who  quailed  beneath  his  leader's 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  73 

searching  glance.  The.' great  man  withdrew  his  eyes  after  a  few 
minutes,  and  added;  "Shall  we  be  justided  in  leaving  our  wounded 
friend  to  the  care  of  the  ladies  ?" 

"  You  cannot  leave  me  in  better  hands,"  said  Mr.  Tupinan. 

•'  Quite  impossible,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

It  was  therefore  settled  that  Mr.  Tupman  should  be  left  at  home  in 
charge  of  the  females  ;  and  that  the  remainder  of  the  guests,  under  the 
guidance  of  Mr.  Wardle,  should  proceed  to  the  spot,  where  was  to  be 
held  that  trial  of  skill,  which  had  roused  all  Mugglclon  from  its  torpor, 
and  inoculated  Dingley  Dell  with  a  fever  of  excitement. 

As  their  walk  which  was  not  above  two  miles  long,  lay  through 
shady  lanes  and  sequestered  footpaths  ;  and  as  their  conversation  turned 
upon  the  delightful  scenery  by  which  they  were  on  every  side  sur- 
rounded, Mr.  Pickwick  was  almost  inclined  to  regret  the  expedition 
they  had  used,  when  he  found  himself  in  the  main  street  of  the  town 
of  Muggleton. 

Every  body  whose  genius  has  a  topographical  bent,  knows  perfectly 
well,  that  Muggleton  is  a  corporate  town,  with  a  mayor,  burgesses, 
and  freemen  ;  and  any  body  who  has  consulted  the  addresses  of  the 
mayor  to  the  freemen,  or  the  freemen  to  the  mayor,  or  both  to  the  cor- 
poration, or  all  three  to  parliament,  will  learn  from  thence  what  they 
ought  to  have  known  before,  that  Muggleton  is  an  ancient  and  loyal 
borouiih,  mingling  a  zealous  advocacy '.f  Christian  principles  with  a 
devoted  attachment  to  commercial  rights  ;  in  demonstration  whereof, 
the  mayor,  corporation,  and  other-inhabitants  have  presented  at  divers 
times,  no  fewer  than  one  thousand  four  hundred  and  twenty  petitions, 
against  the  continuance  of  negro  slavery  abroad,  and  an  equal  number 
against  any  interference  with  the  factory  system  at  home  ;  sixty-eight 
for  permitting  the  sale  of  benefices  in  the  church,  and  eighty-six  for 
abolishing  Sunday  trading  in  the  streets. 

Mr.  Pickwick  stood  in  the  principal  street  of  this  illustrious  town, 
and  gazed  with  an  air  of  curiosity  not  unmixed  with  interest,  on  the 
objects  around  him.  There  was  an  open  square  for  the  market-place ; 
and  in  the  centre  of  it,  a  large  inn  with  a  sign-post  in  front,  displaying 
an  object  very  common  in  art,  but  rarely  met  with  in  nature — to  wit, 
a  blue  lion  with  three  bow  legs  in  the  air,  balancing  himself  on  the 
extreme  point  of  the  centre  claw  of  his  fourth  foot.  There  were  within 
sight,  an  auctioneer's  and  fire-agency  office,  a  corn  factor's,  a  li.iea 
draper's,  a  saddler's,  a  distiller's,  a  grocer's,  and  a  shoe  shop — the  last- 
incntioned  warehouse  being  also  appropriated  to  the  diffusion  of  hats, 
bonnets,  wearing  apparel,  cotton  umbrellas,  and  useful  knowledge. 
There  was  a  red  brick  house  with  a  small  paved  court-yard  in  front, 
•which  any  body  might  haVe  known  belonged  to  the  attorney  ;  and  there 
was,  moreover,  another  red  brick  house  with  Venetian  blinds,  and  a 
large  brass  door-plate,  with  a  very  legible  announcement  that  it  belong- 
ed to  the  surgeon.  A  few  boys  were  making  their  way  to  the  cricket 
field  ;  and  two  or  three  shopkeepers  who  were  standing  at  their  doors, 
looked  as  if  they  should  like  to  be  making  their  way  to  the  same  spot, 
as  indeed  to  all  appearance  they  might  have  done,  without  losing  any 
great  ajuount  of  custoni  thereby.  Mr.  Pickwick  having  paused  to  make 
these  observ-ations,  to  be  noted  down  at  a  more  convenient  period, 
hastened  to  join  his  friends,  v»ho  had  turned  out  of  the  main  street, 
and  were  already  within  sight  of  the  field  of  battle. 

The  wickets  were  pitched,  and  so  were  a  couple  of  marquess  for  the 

Vol.  I.— 7 


74  P08THUM0D8  PAPERS  OF 

rest  and  refreshment  of  the  contending  parties.  The  game  had  not 
yet  commenced.  Two  or  three  Dingley  Dellers,  and  All-Muggleton- 
ians,  were  amusing  themselves  with  a  majestic  air  by  throwing  the 
hall  carelessly  from  hnnd  to  hand  :  and  several  other  gentlemen  dressed 
like  ihem,  in  straw  hats,  fllnncl  jackets,  and  white  trousers, — a  cos- 
tume in  which  they  looked  very  much  like  amateur  stone-masons — 
were  sprinkled  abjut  the  tents,  towards  one  of  which  Mr.  Wardle  con- 
ducted the  party. 

Several  dozen  of  "  How-are-you's  ?"  hailed  the  old  gentleman's 
arrival ;  and  a  general  raising  of  the  straw  hats,  and  bending  forward 
of  the  flannel  jackets,  followed  his  introduction  of  his  guests  as  gentle- 
men from  London,  who  were  extremely  anxious  to  witness  the  proceed- 
ing, of  the  day,  w^th  which  he  had  no  doubt,  they  would  be  greatly 
delighted. 

*'  You  had  better  step  into  the  marquee,  I  think,  sir,"'  said  one  very 
stout  gentleman,  whose  body  and  legs  looked  like  half  a  gigantic  roll 
of  flannel,  elevated  on  a  couple  of  inflated  pillow-cases. 

"  You'll  find  it  r^uch  pleasanter,  sir,"  urged  another  stout  gentleman, 
who  strongly  resembled  the  other  half  of  the  roil  of  flannel  aforesaid. 

*'  You're  very  good,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

♦'  This  way,"  said  the  first  speaker ;  "  they  notch  in  here — it's  the 
best  place  in  the  whole  field  :"  and  the  cricketer,  panting  on  before, 
preceded  them  to  the  tent. 

"  Capital  game — smart  sport — fine  exercise — very,"  were  the  words 
which  fell  upon  Mr.  Pickwick's  ear  as  he  entered  the  tent ;  and  the  first 
object  that  met  his  eyes,  was  his  green-coated  friend  of  the  Rochester 
coach,  holding  forth,  to  the  no  small  delight  and  edification  of  a  select 
circle  of  the  chosen  of  AU-Mugglcton.  His  dress  was  slightly  improved, 
and  he  wore  boots  ;  but  there  was  no  mistaking  him. 

The  stranger  recoofnwed  his  friends  immediately  ;  and,  darting  for- 
ward antl  seizing  Mr.  Pickwick  by  the  hand,  dragged  him  to  a  seat 
with  his  usual  impetuosity,  talking  all  the. while  as  if  the  whole  of  the 
arrangements  were  under  his  special  patronage  and  direction. 

"  This  way — this  way — capital  fun — lots  of  beer — hogsheads;  rounds 
of  beef — bullocks  ;  mustard — cart  loads  ;  glorious  day — down  with 
you — make  yourself  at  home — glad  to  see  you — very." 

Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  as  he  was  bid,  and  Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr, 
Sntdgrass  also  complied  with  the  directions  of  their  mysterious  friend. 
Mr.  Wardle  looked  on  in  silent  wonder. 

*'  Mr.  Wardle — a  friend  of  mine,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

♦'  Friend  of  yours  ! — My  dear  sir,  how  arc  you  1 — Friend  of  my 
friend's — give  me  your  hand,  sir," — and  the  stranger  grasped  Mr. 
Wardle's  hand  with  all  the  fervour  of  a  close  intimacy  of  many  years, 
and  then  stepped  back  a  pace  or  two  as  if  to  take  a  full  survey  of  his 
face  and  figure,  and  then  shook  hands  with  him  again,  if  possible  more 
warmly  than  before. 

"  Well ;  and  how  came  you  here?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile 
in  which  benevolence  struggled  with  surprise, 

"Gomel"  replied  the  stranger — "  stopping  at  Crown — Crown  at 
Muggleton — met  a  party — flannel  jackets — white  trousers — anchovy 
sandwiches — devilled  kidneys — splendid  fellows — glorious." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  sufficiently  versed  in  the  stranger's  system  of 
stenography  to  infer  from  this  rapid  and  disjointed  communication,  that 
he  had,  somehow  or  other,  contracted  an  acquaintance  with  the  All- 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  75 

Muggletons,  which  he  had  converted,  by  a  process  peculiar  to  himself, 
into  that  extent  of  good  fellowship  on  which  a  general  invitation  may 
be  easily  founded.  His  curiosity  was  therefore  satisfied,  and  putting 
on  his  spectacles,  he  prepared  himself  to  watch  the  play  which  was 
just  con^mencing. 

All-Muggleton  had  the  first  innings  ;  and  the  interest  became  intense 
when  Mr.  Dumkins,  and  Mr.  Podder,  two  of  the  most  renowned  mem- 
bers of  that  most  distinguished  club,  walked,  hat  in  hand,  to  their 
respective  wickets.  Mr.  Luffe),  the  highest  ornament  of  Dingley 
Dell,  was  pitched  to  bowl  against  the  redoubtable  Dumkins,  and  Mr. 
Struggles  was  selected  to  do  the  same  kind  office  for  the  hitherto  un- 
conqucred  Podder.  Several  players  were  stationed  to  *•  look  out,"  in 
different  parts  of  the  field,  and  each  fixed  himself  into  the  proper  attitude, 
by  placing  one  hand  on  each  knee,  and  ttooping  very  muci\  as  if  he 
were  "  making  a  back"'  for  some  beginner  at  leap-frog.  All  the  regular 
players  do  this  sort  of  thing  ; — indeed  it's  generally  supposed  that  it  is 
quite  impossible  to  look  out  projjerly  in  any  other  position. 

The  umpires  were  stationed  behind  the  wickets  ;  the  scorers  were 
prepared  to  notch  the  runs;  a  breatlile.'ss  silence  ensued.  Mr.  LutTey 
retired  a  few  paces  behind  the  wicket  of  the  passive  Podder,  and  ap- 
plied the  ball  to  his  right  eye  for  several  seconds.  Dumkins  confi;.iently 
awaited  its  coming,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  motions  of  Lulfey. 

♦' Play,"  suddenly  cried  the  bowler.  The  ball  flew  from  his  hand 
straight  and  swift  towards  the  centre  stump  of  the  wicket.  The  wary 
Dumkins  was  on  the  alert ;  it  fell  upon  the  tip  of  the  l^at,  and  bounded 
far  away  over  the  heads  of  the  scouts,  who  had  jus:  stooped  low  enough 
to  let  it  fly  over  them. 

"  Run — run — another.  Now,  then,  throw  her  up — up  with  her — 
stop  there — another — no — yes — no — throw  her  up,  throw  her  up." 
Such  were  the  shouts  which  followed  the  stroke;  and,  at  tj\e  conclu- 
sion of  which,  All-Mugtrleton  had  scored  two.  Nor  was  Podder  behind 
hand  in  earning  laurels  wherewith  to  garnish  himself  and  Mugirlelon. 
He  blocked  the  doubtful  balls,  missed  th'.'  bad  ones,  took  the  good  ones, 
and  sent  them  flying  to  all  parts  of  the  field.  i  he  scouts  were  hot 
and  tired  ;  the  bowlers  were  changed,  and  bowled  till  their  arms  ached  ; 
but  Dumkins  and  Podder  remained  unconqijered.  Did  an  elderly  gen- 
tleman essay  to  stop  the  progress  of  ihe  ball,  il  rolled  between  his  leirs, 
or  slipped  between  his  fuiiiers  Did  a  t'lim  gentleman  try  to  catch  it, 
it  struck  him  on  the  nose,  and  bounded  plea.sanriy  oif  with  redout)led 
violence,  while  the  slim  gentleman's  eyes  filled  with  water,  and  his 
form  writhed  with  anguish.  Was  it  thrown  straight  up  to  the  wicket, 
Dumkins  had  reached  it  before  the  ball.  In  short,  when  Dumkins  was 
caught  out.  and  Podder  stumped  out,  All  .Muiri.deton  had  notched  some 
fifty-four,  while  the  score  of  the  Dingley  Uellers  was  as  blank  as  their 
faces.  The  advantage  was  too  great  to  be  recovered.  In  vain  did  the 
eajjer  Lulfey,  and  the  enthusiastic  Slruggle.-j.  do  all  that  skill  and  ex- 
perience could  suggest,  to  regain  the  ground  Uini^ley  De^l  had  lost  in 
the  contest ;  it  waa  of  no  avail ;  aiid  in  an  early  period  of  the  winning 
game  Dingley  Dell  gave  in,  and  allowed  the  superior  prowess  of  Ail- 
MuLTt/leton. 

The  stranger,  meanwhile,  had  been  eatinj/,  drinkintr,  and  talking 
without  ces*^ation.  At  every  good  stroke  he  expressed  his  satisfaction 
and  approval  of  the  player  in  a  most  condescenilin^j  and  patroni.sing 
manner,  which  could  not  fail  to  have  been  highly  gratifying  to  the  party 


75  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

concerned  ;  while  at  every  bad  attempt  at  a  catch,  and  every  failure  to 
stop  the  ball,  he  launched  his  personal  displeasure  at  the  liea^  of  the 
devoted  individual  in  such  denunciations  as — *'  Ah,  ha  ! — stupid" — 
"Now  butter-fingers" — "  Aluflf" — "Humbug" — and  so  forth — ejacu- 
lations which  scorned  to  establish  him  in  the  opinion  of  all  around,  as 
a  most  excellent  and  undeniable  judge  of  the  whole  art  amX  mystery  of 
the  noble  fjanve  of  cricket. 

"Capital  game — well  played — some  strokes  admirable/'  said  the 
strai.ger,  as  both  sides  crowded  into  the  tent,  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
game. 

"You  have  played  it,  sir?"  inquired  Mr.  Wardlc^  who  had  bean 
much  amused  by  his  loquacity. 

"  Played  it ! — Think  I  havu — thousands  of  times— not  here — West 
Indies — exciting  thing:   hot  wnrkt— very." 

"  It  must  be  rather  a  warm  pursuit  in  such  a  climate,"  observed  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Warm  1 — red  hot — scorching — glowing. — Played  a  match  once — 
single  wicket — friend,  the  colonel — Sir  Thomas  Blazo — who  should 
get  the  greatest  number  of  runs.  Won  the  toss — first  innings  seven 
o'clock,  A.  M.  Six  natives  to  looli  out — went  in  ;  kept  in — heat  intense 
— natives  all  fainted — taken  away  :  fresh  half  dozen  ordered — fiinted 
jjso — Blazo  bowling — supported  by  two  )iatives — couldn't  bowl  me  out 
— fainted  too — cleared  away  the  colonel — wouldn't  give  in — faithful 
attendant — Quanka  Samba — last  man  left — sun  so  hot,  bat  in  blisters, 
ball  scorched  brpwn — five  hundred  and  seventy  runs — rather  exhausted 
— Quanko  mustered  up  last  remaining  strength — bowled  me  out — had 
a  bath,  and  went  out  to  dinner." 

"And  what  became  of  w  hat's-his-name,  sir  1"  inquired  an  old  gen- 
tleman. 

"  Blazo  1" 

"  No — the  other  B;entleman.** 

♦'Quanko  Samba r' 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Poor  Quanko — never  recovered  it-^bowled  on,  on  my  account — 
bowled  off,  on  his  own — died  sir."  Here  the  stranger  buried  his  coun- 
tenance in  a  brown  jug  ,  but  whether  to  hide  his  emotion,  or  imbibe  its 
contents,  we  cannot  distinctly  affirm.  We  only  know  that  he  paused 
suddenly,  drew  a  long  and  deep  breath,  and  looked  anxiously  on,  as 
two  ai'  the  principal  members  of  the  Dingley  Dell  Club  approached 
Mr.  Pickwick,  and  said — 

"  We  aro  about  to  partake  of  a  plain  dinner  at  the  Blue  Lion,  sir ; 
we  hope  you  and  your  friends  will  join  us." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  "  among  our  friends  we  mcJude  Mr. 
:"  and  he  looked  towards  the  stranger. 

"Jingle,"  §aid  that  versatile  gentleman,  taking  the  hint  at  onco. 
"  Jingle— Alfred  Jingle,  Esq.,  of  No  hall,  No  where." 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  So  shall  I,"  said  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle,  drawing  one  arm  fhrough  Mr. 
Pickwick's,  and  another  through  Mr.  Wardle's,  as  he  whispered  con- 
fidentially in  the  ear  of  the  former  gentleman  : 

''  D  — iish  good  dinn(!r— KJold,  but  capital — peeped  into  the  room  thi.i 
morning — fowls  and  pies,  and  all  tliat  sort  of  thing— pleasant  fellows, 
these — well  behaved,  too — very." 

ThciQ  bring  no  farther  prcliminarijes  to  arrange,, the  company  strag- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  77 

^ed  into  the  town  in  little  knots  of  twos  and  threes  ;  and  within  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  were  all  seated  in  the  great  room  of  the  Blue  Lion 
Inn,  Mugffleton — Mr.  Dumkins  acting  as  chairman,  and  Mr.  Luffey 
ofiiciating  as  vice. 

There  was  a  vast  deal  of  talking,  and  rattling  of  knives  and  forks, 
and  plates  ;  a  great  running  about  of  three  ponderous  headed  wriiters, 
and  a  rapid  disappearance  of  the  substantial  viands  on  the  table  ;  to 
each  and  every  of  which  item  of  confusion,  the  facetious  Mr.  Jingle 
lent  the  aid  of  half-a-dozen  ordinary  men  at  least.  When  every  body 
had  eat  as  much  as  they  could,  the  cloth  was  removed,  bottles,  glasses, 
and  dessert  were  placed  on  the  table  ;  and  the  waiters  withdrew  to 
clear  "away,"  or,  in  other  words,  to  appropriate  to  their  own  private 
use  and  emolument  whatever  remnants  of  the  eatables  and  drinkables 
they  could  contrive  to  lay  their  hands  on. 

Amidst  the  general  hum  of  mirth  and  conversation  that  ensued  there 
•was  a  little  man  with  a  puffy  Say-nothing-to-me,-or-ril-contradict-you 
sort  of  countenance,  who  remained  very  quiet ,  occasionally  looking 
round  him  when  the  conversation  slackened  as  if  he  contemplated 
putting  in  something  very  weighty  :  and  now  and  then  bursting  into  a 
short  cough  of  inexpressible  grandeur.  At  length,  during  a  moment 
of  comparative  silence,  the  little  man  called  out  in  a  very  loud,  solemn 
voice, 

"  Mr.  Luflfey." 

Every  body  was  hushed  into  a  profound  stillness  as  the  individual 
addressed  replied, 

"  Sir." 

"  I  wish  to  address  a  few  words  to  you,  sir,  if  you  will  entreat  the 
gentlemen  to  fill  their  glasses." 

Mr.  Jingle  uttered  a  patronising  "  hear,  hear,"  which  was  responded 
to  by  the  remainder  of  the  company  ;  and  the  glasses  having  bepn 
filled,  the  vice-president  assumed  an  air  of  wisdom  in  a  state  of  pro- 
found attention  ;  and  said, 

Mr.  Staple." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  little  man,  rising,  "  I  wish  to  address  what  I  have 
to  say  to  ym  and  not  to  our  worthy  chairman,  because  our  worthy 
chairman  is  in  some  measure — I  may  say  in  a  great  degree — the  sub- 
ject of  what  I  have  to  say,  or  I  may  say  to — to — 

"  State,"  suggested  Mr.  Jingle. 

*'  Yes,  to  state,"  said  the  little  man,  "  I  thank  my  honourable  friend, 
if  he  will  allow  me  to  call  him  go — (four  hears,  and  one  certainly  from 
Mr.  Jingle) — for  the  sugL^estion.  Sir,  I  am  a  Deller — a  Dingley 
Deller,  (cheers.)  I  cannot  lay  claim  to  the  honour  of  forming  an  item 
in  the  population  of  Muggleton  ;  nor,  sir,  I  will  frankly  admit,  do  I 
covet  that  honour  :  and  I  will  tell  you  why,  sir,  (hear  ;)  to  Muggleton 
I  will  readily  concede  all  those  honours  and  distinctions  to  which  it 
can  (airly  lay  claim — they  are  too  numerous  and  too  well  known  to  re- 
quire aid  or  recapitulation  from  me.  But,  sir,  while  we  remember 
that  Muggleton  has  given  birth  to  a  Duuikins  and  a  Poddcr,  let  us 
never  forget  that  Dingley  Dell  can  boast  a  LutFey  and  a  Struggles. 
(Vociferous  cheering.)  Let  me  not  be  consi  lered  as  wishing  to  de- 
tract from  the  merits  of  the  former  gentleniL-n  Sir,  I  envy  tlifin  the 
luxury  of  their  own  feelings,  on  this  occasion  (Cheers.)  Every  gen- 
tleman who  hears  me,  is  probabi)'  acquainted  with  the  re[)ly  made  by  an 
individual  who — to  use  an  ordinary  ligure  of  speech — '  hung  out'  in  a 

7*    . 


79  P09THUMOOS    PAPERS   07 

tub,  to  the  Emperor  Alexander  ; — '  If  I  were  not  Diogenes,'  said  he, 
•  I  would  be  .Mexander.'  I  can  well  imagine  these  gentlemen  to  say, 
'  If  I  were  not  Duinkins  I  would  be  Luliey  ;  if  I  were  not  Fodder  I 
would  be  Struggles.'  (Enthusiasm.)  But,  gentlemen  of  Muggleton, 
is  it  in  cricket  alone  that  your  fellow-towngnicn  stand  pre-eminent  I 
Have  you  never  heard  of  Dumkins  and  determination  !  J^ave  you 
never  been  taught  to  associate  Fodder  with  property  1  (Great  ap- 
plause.) Have  you  ncror,  when  straggling  for  your  rights,  your  liber- 
ties, and  your  privileges,  been,  reduced,  if  only  for  an  instant,  to 
misgiving  and  de.5pair  !  And  when  you  have  been  thus  depressed,  has 
notlhe  name  of  Dumkins  laid  afresh  within  your  breast,  the  lire  which 
had  just  gone  out  ;  and  has  not  a  word  frtna  the  man,  lighted  it  again 
as  brightly  as  if  it  had  never  uxpired  '  >(Great  cheering)  Gentlemen, 
I  bc^'  vou  to  surround  with  a  rich  halo  of  enthusiastic  cheering,  the 
united  names  of  '  Dumkins  and  Fodder.'  " 

Here  the  little  man  ceased,  and  here  the  company  commenced  a 
jaising  of  voices,  and  thumping  of  tables,  which  lasted  with  little  inter- 
mission during  the  remainder  of  the  evening.  Other  toasts  were  drunk. 
Mr.  Luffey  and  Mr.  Stiuggles,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Jingle,  were 
each  in  his  turn,  the  subject  of  unqualified  eulogium  ;  and  each  ip  dae 
course  returned  thanks  for  the  honour. 

Enthusiastic  as  we  are  in  the  noble  cause  to  which  we  have  devoted 
ourselves,  we  shoiild  have  felt  a  sensation  of  pride  which  we  cannot 
express,  and  a  consciousness  of  having  dorve  something  to  merit  im- 
mortality of  which  we  are  now-deprived,  could  we  have  laid  the  faintest 
outline  of  these  addresses  before  our  ardent  readers.  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as 
usual,  took  a  great  mass  of  notes,  which  would  no  doubt  have  allbrded 
most  useful  and  valuable  information,  had  not  the  burning  eloquence  of 
the  words,  or  the  feverish  influence  of  the  wine  made  that  gentleman's 
hand  so  extremely  unsteady,  as  to  render  his  writing  nearly  unintelli- 
gible, and  his  style  wholly  so.  By  dint  of  patient  investigation,  we 
have  been  enabled  to  trace  some  characters  bearing  a  faint  resemblance 
to  the  names  of  the  speakers  ;  and  we  can  also  discern  an  enlry  of  a 
son<T  (supposed  to  have  been  sung  by  Mr.  Jingle,)  in  which  the  words 
"  bo°wl,"'  "  sparkling,"  "ruby,"  *'  bright,"  ai^  "wine,"'  are  frequently 
repeated  at  short  intervals.  '  We  fancy  too,  that  we  can  discern  at  the 
very  end  of  the  notes,  some  indistinct  reference  to  "broiled  bones  ;" 
and  then  the  words  "cold"  "without"  occur:  but  as  any  hypothesis 
we  could  found  upon  them  must  necessarily  rest  upon  mere  conjecture, 
we  are  not  disposed  to  indulge  in  any  of  the  speculations  to  which  they 
may  give  rise. 

We  will  therefore  turn  to  Mr.  Tupman  ;  merely  adding  that  within 
some  few  minutes  before  twelve  o'clock  that  night,  the  convocation  of 
worthies  of  Dingley  Dell  and  Muggleton,  were  heard  to  sing  with  great 
feeling  and  emphasis,  the  beautiful  and  pathetic  national  air,  of 

We  won't  go  home  'till  morning, 
We  won't  go  home  'till  morning, 
We  won't  go  home  'till  morning, 
'Till  daylight  doth  appear. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  79 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

STRONGLY    ILLUSTKATIVE  OV  THE   POSITION,  THAT    THE  COURSE   OF    TRL'K 
LOVE  J8  NOT  X  KA1L.VVAV. 

The  quiet  seclusron  of  Dingley  Dell,  the  presence  of  so  many  of  the 
gentler  sex.  and  the  solicitude  and  anxiety  they  evinced  in  his  behali^ 
were  all  favourable  to  the  growth  and  development  of  those  softer  feel- 
ings which  nature  had  implanted  deep  in  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Tracy 
Tupman,  and  which  now  appeared  destined  to  centre  in  one  lovely 
object.  The  young  ladies  were  pretty,  their  manners  winning,  their 
dispositions  unexceptionable  :  but  there  was  a  dignity  in  the  air,  a 
touch-me-notishness  in  the.walk,  a  majesty  in  the  eye  of  the  spin.'^ter 
aunt,  to  which,  at  their  time  of  life,  they  could  lay  no  cLaim,  which 
distinguished  her  from  any  female  on  whom  Mr.  Tupman  had  ever 
gazed.  Tliat  there  was  something  kindred  in  their  nature,  something 
congenial  in  their  souls,  something  mysteriously  sympathetic  in  their 
bosoms,  was  evident.  Her  name  was  the  first  that  rose  to  Mr.  Tup- 
man's  lips  as  he  lay  wounded  on  the  grass  ;  and  her  hysteric  laughter 
was  the  first  sound  that  fell  upon  his  ears  when  he  was  supported  to 
the  house.  But  had  her  agitation  arisen  from  an  amiable  and  feminine 
sensibility,  which  would  have  been  equally  irrepressible  in  any  case  ? 
or  had  it  been  called  forth  by  a  more  ardent  and  passionate  feeling, 
which  he,  of  all  men  living,  could  alone  awaken  ?  These  were  the 
doubts  which  racked  his  brain  as  he  lay  extended  on  the  sofa  ;  these 
were  the  doubts  which  he  detennined  should  be  at  ooce  and  for  cvi-r 
resolved. 

It  was  evening.     Isabella  and    Emily  had  strolled  out  with   Mr. 
Trundle  ;  the  deaf  old  lady  had  fallen  asleep  in  her  chair  ;  Vho  snoring 
of  the  fat  boy,  penetrated  in  a  low  and  monotonous  sound  from  the 
distant  kitchen ;  the  buxom  servants  were  lounging  at  the  side  door, 
enjoying  tlie  pleasantness  of  the  hour,  and  the  delights  of  flirtation,  on 
first  principles,  with  certain  unwieldy  animals  attached  to  the  farm  ; 
and  there  sat  the  interesting  pair,  uncared  for  by  all,  caring  for  none, 
and  dreaming  only  for  themselves  ;  there  they  sat,  in  short,  like  a  pair 
of  carefully-folded  kid-gloves — bound  up  in  each  other. 
"  I  have  forgotten  my  flowers,"  said  the  spinster  aunt. 
"  Water  them  now,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  in  accents  of  persuasion. 
"You  will  take  cold  in  the  evening  air,"  urged  the  spinster  aunt, 
affectionately. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  rising  ;  "  it  will  do  mc  good.  Let  me 
acrompany  you." 

The  lady  paused  to  adjust  the  sling  in  which  the  left  arm  of  the  youth 
was  placed,  and  taking  his  right  arm  led  him  to  the  garden. 

There  was  a  bower  at  the  farther  end,  with  honeysuckle,  jessamine, 
and  creeping  plants — one  of  those  sweet  retreats  which  human  men 
erect  for  the  accommodation  of  spiders. 

The  spinster  aunt  took  up  a  large  watering-pot  winch  lay  in  one 


80  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS  OF 

corner,  and  was  about  to  leave  the  arbour.     Mr.  Tupraan  (Retained  her, 
and  drew  her  to  a  seat  behind  him. 
'•  Miss  Wardle  !"  said  he. 

The  spinster  aunt  irenibled,  till  some  pebbles  which  had  accidentally 
found  their  way  into  the  large  watering-pot,  shook  like  an  infant's  rattle. 
"Miss  Wardle,"  said  Mr.  Tupmaii,  "you  are  an  angel." 
"  Mr.  Tupman  I"  exclaimed  Jiachael,  blushing  as  red  as  the  water- 
ing-pot itself. 

"  Nay,"  said  the  eloquent  Pickwickian — "  I  know  it  but  too  well." 

"All  women -are  angles,  they  say,"  murmured  the  lady,  playfully. 

"Then  what  can  yAi,  be;  or  to  what,  without  presumption  can  I 

compare  youl"  replied  Mr.  Tupman.     "Where  was  the  woman  ever 

seen  who  resembled  you  1     Where  else  could  I  hope  to  find  so  rare  a 

combination  of  excellence  and  beauty  ?     Wliere  else  could  I  seek  to 

Oh  !"     Here  Mr.  Tupman  paused  and  pressed  the  hand  which 

clasped  the  handle  of  the  happy  watering-pot. 

The  lady  turned  aside  her  head.  "  Men  are  such  deceivers,"  she 
softly  whispered. 

"  They  are,  they  are,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Tupman  ;  "  but  not  all  men. 
There  lives  at  least  one  being  who  can  never  change — one  being  who 
would  be  content  to  devote  his  whole  existence  to  your  happiness — 
who  lives  but  in  your  eyes — who  breathes  but  in  your  smiles — who 
bears  the  heavy  burden  of  life  itself  only  for  you." 
"  Could  such  an  individual  be  found-—"  said  the  lady. 
"But  he  can  be  found,"  said  the  ardent  Mr.  Tupraan,  interposing. 
"He  is  found.     He  is  here,  Miss  Wardle."     And  ere  the  lady  was 
aware  of  his  intention,  Mr.  Tupman  had  sunk  upon  his  knees  at  her  feet. 
"  Mr.  Tupman,  rise,"  said  Rachael. 

"Never  I"  was  the  valorous  reply.  "  Oh,  Rachael !" — He  seized 
her  passive  hand,  and  the  watering-pot  fell  to  the  ground  as  he  pressed 
it  to  his  lips. — "  Oh,  Rachael  !  say  you  love  me." 

"  Mr.  Tupman,"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  with  averted  head — "  I  can 
hardly  speak  the  words;  but — but — you  are  not  wholly  indifferent 
to  me." 

Mr.  Tupman  no  sooner  heard  this  avowal,  than  he  proceeded  to  do 
what  his  enthusiastic  emotions  prompted,  and  what,  for  aught  we  know, 
(for  we  are  but  little  acquainted  with  such  matters,)  people  so  circum- 
stanced always  do.  He  jumped  up,  and,  throwing  his  arm  round  the 
neck  of  the  spinster  aunt,  imprinted  upon  her  lips  numerous  kisses, 
which  after  a  due  show  of  struggling  and  resistance,  she  received  so 
passively,  that  there  is  no  telling  how  many  more  Mr.  Tupman  might 
have  bestowed,  if  the  lady  had  not  given  a  very  unaffected  start  and 
exclaimed  in  an  affrighted  tone, — 

"  Mr.  Tupman,  we  are  observed  ! — we  are  discovered  "' 
Mr.  Tupman  looked  round.  There  was  the  fat  boy,  perfectly  motion- 
less, with  his  large  circular  eyes  staring  into  the  arbour,  but  without 
the  slightest  expression  on  his  face  that  the  most  expert  physiognomist 
could  have  referred  to  astonishment,  curiosity,  or  any  other  known 
passion  that  agitates  the  human  breast.  Mr.  Tupman  gazed  on  the 
fat  boy,  ami  the  fat  boy  stared  at  him  ;  and  the  longer  Mr.  Tupman 
observed  the  utter  vacancy  of  the  fat  boy's  countenance,  the  more  con- 
vinced he  became  that  he  either  did  not  know  or  did  not  understand 
any  thing  that  had  been  going  forward.  Under  this  impression,  he 
said  with  great  firmness, — 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  8i 

"  What  do  you  want  here,  sir  ?" 

*'  Supper's  ready,  sir,"  was  tho  prompt  reply. 

''  Have  you  just  come  here,  sir  ?"'  inquired  Mr.  Tupnian  with  a 
piercing  look. 

"  Just,"  replied  the  fat  boy. 

Mr.  Tupman  looked  at  him  very  hard  ag:.in  ;  but  there  was  not  a 
wink  in  his  eye,  nor  a  curve  in  his  face. 

Mr.  Tupman  look  the  arm  of  the  spinster  aunt,  and  walked  toward.* 
the  house;  the  fat  boy  followed  behind. 

"He  knows  nothing  of  what  has  happened,"  he  whispered. 

"  Nothing,"  said  the  spinster  aunt. 

There  was  a  sound  behind  them,  as  of  an  imperfectly  suppressed 
chuckle.  Mr.  Tupman  turned  sharply  round.  Ao  ;  it  could  not  have 
been  the  fat  boy  ;  there  was  not  a  gleam  of  mirth,  or  any  thing  but 
feeding,  in  his  whole  visage. 

"  He  must  have  been  fast  asleep."  whispered  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  it,"  replied  the  spinster  aunt. 

They  both  laughed  heartily. 

M"-.  Tupman  was  wrong.  The  fat  boy,  for  once,  had  not  been  fast 
asleep.    He  was  awake — wide  awake — to  what  had  been  going  forward. 

The  supper  passed  off  without  any  attempt  at  a  general  conversa- 
tion. The  old  lady  had  gone  to  bed  ;  Isabella  Vl'ardle  devoted  herself 
CA'clusively  to  Mr.  Trundle;  the  spinster  aunt's  attentions  were 
reserved  for  Mr.  Tupman;  and  Emily's  thoughts  appeared  to  be 
engrossed  by  some  distant  object — possibly  they  were  with  the  absent 
Snodgrass. 

Eleven — twelve — one  o'clock  had  struck,  and  the  gentlemen  had  not 
arrived.  Consternation  sat  on  every  face.  Could  they  have  been 
waylaid  ajid  robbed  ?  Should  they  send  men  and  lanterns  in  everv 
direction  by  which  they  could  be  supposed  likely  to  have  travelled 
hon)e  ?  or  should  they — Hark  !  there  they  were. — What  could  have 
made  them  so  late  1  A  strange  voice  too  !  To  whom  could  it  belong  ? 
They  rus'hcd  into  the  kitchen  whither  tho  truants  had  repaired,  and  at 
once  obtained  rather  more  than,  a  glimmering  of  the  real  state  of  the 
case. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  hat  cocked 
completely  over  his  left  eye,  was  leaning  against  the  dre.sser,  shaking 
his  head  from  side  to  side,  and  producing  a  constant  successior\  of  the 
blandest  and  most  benevolent  smiles,  without  being  moved  thereunto 
by  any  discernible  cause  or  pretence  whatsoever  ;  old  Mr.  Wardle, 
with  a  highly  inflamed  countenance,  was  grasping  the  hand  of  a  strange 
gentleman,  muttering  protestations  of  eternal  friendship  ;  Mr.  Winkle 
supporting  himself  by  the  eight-day  clock,  was  feebly  invoking  destruc- 
tion upon  the  head  of  any  member  of  tho  family  who  should  suggest 
the  propriety  of  his  retiring  for  the  night ;  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  had 
gunk  into  a  chair,  with  an  expression  of  the  most  abject  and  hopeless 
misery  that  the  human  mind  can  imagine,  portrayed  in  ever}'  linea- 
ment of  his  expressive  face. 

"  Is  any  thing  the  mattrr  !''  inquired  the  three  ladies. 

♦'Nothin'  ihe  matter,"  replied  .Mr.  Pickwick. — '*  We — we're — all 
right.     I  say,  Wardle,  we're  all  right,  ain't  we  !'' 

"  I  should  think  so,"  replied  the  jolly  host.  "  My  dears,  here's  my 
friend  Mr.  Jinylc — Mr.  Pickwick's  friend,  Mr.  Jingle — eomc  'pon 
little  visit," 


82  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"  Is  any  thing  the  matter  with  Mr.  Snodgrass,  sir?'  inquired  Emil)', 
with  great  anxiety. 

"Nothing  the  matter,  ma'am,"  replied  the  stranger.  "Cricket 
dinner — glorious  sport — capital  songs — old  port — claret — good — very 
good — wine,  ma'am — wine." 

"  It  wasn't  the  wine,"  murmured  Mr.  Snodgrass,  in  a  broken  voice  ; 
**it  was  the  salmon."  (Somehow  or  other,  it  never  is  the  wine,  in 
these  cases.) 

"  Hadn't  they  better  go  to  bed,  ma'am  ?"  inquired  Emma.  "  Two 
of  the  boys  will  carry  the  gentlemen  up  stairs." 

*'  I  won't  go  to  bed,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  firmly. 

"  No  living  boy  shall  carry  me,"  said  Mr  Pickwick,  stoutly  ; — and 
he  went  on  smiling  as  before. 

"Hurrah  !"  gasped  Mr.  Winkle,  faintly. 

"  Hurrah  !''  echoed  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  off  his  hat  and  dashing  it 
on  the  floor,  and  insanely  casting  his  spectacles  into  the  middle  of  the 
kitchen. — At  this  humorous  feat  he  laughed  outright. 

"  Let's — have — 'nolher — bottle,"'  cried  Mr.  Winkle,  commencing  in 
a  very  loud  key,  and  ending  in  a  very  faint  one.  His  head  dropped 
upon  his  breast ;  and  muttering  his  invincible  determination  not  to  go 
to  his  bed,  and  a  sanguinary  regret  that  he  had  not  '  done  for  old  Tup- 
man'  in  the  morning,  he  fell  fast  asleep ;  in  which  condition  he  was 
borne  to  his  apartments  by  two  young  giants,  under  the  personal  super- 
intenJence  of  the  fat  boy,  to  whose  protecting  care  Mr.  Snodgrass 
shortly  afterwards  confided  his  own  person.  Mr.  Pickwick  accepted 
the  proffered  arm  of  Mr.  Tupman,  and  quietly  disappeared,  smiling 
more  than  ever  ;  and  Mr.  Wardle,  after  taking  as  affectionate  a  leave 
of  the  whole  family  as  if  he  were  ordered  for  immediate  execution, 
consigned  to  Mr.  Trundle  the  honour  of  conveying  him  up  stairs,  and 
retired,  with  a  very  futile  attempt  to  look  impressively  solemn  and 
dignified. 

'•  What  a  shocking  scene  !"  said  the  spinster  aunt. 

"  Disgusting  !'  ejaculated  both  the  young  ladies. 

"  Dreadful — dreadful !"  said  Jingle,  looking  very  grave ;  he  was  about 
a  bottle  and  a  half  ahead  of  any  of  his  companions.  "  Horrid  spectacle 
— very." 

"  What  a  nice  man  !"  whi.'-pered  the  spinster  aunt  to  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Good-looking,  too  !"  whispered  Emily  Wardle. 

"  Oh,  decidedly,"  observed  the  spinster  aunt. 

Mr.  Tupman  thought  of  the  widow  of  Rochester,  and  his  mind  was 
troubled.  The  succeeding  half-hour's  conversation  was  not  of  a  nature 
to  calm  his  perturbed  spirit.  The  new  visiter  was  very  talkative,  and 
the  number  of  his  anecdotes  was  only  to  be  exceeded  by  the  extent  of 
his  prditeness.  Mr.  Tupman  felt,  that  as  Jingle's  popularity  increased, 
he  (Tupman)  retired  farther  into  the  shade.  His  laughter  was  forced 
— his  merriment  feigned  ;  and  when  at  last  he  laid  his  acuing  temples 
between  the  sheets,  he  thought,  with  horrid  delight  on  the  satisfaction 
it  would  afford  him,  to  have  Jingle's  head  at  that  moment  between  the 
feather-bed  and  the  mattress. 

The  indefatigable  stranger  rose  betimes  next  morning,  and,  although 
his  companions  remained  in  bed  overpowered  with  the  dissipation  of 
the  previous  night,  exerted  himself  most  successfully  to  promote  the 
hilarity  of  the  breakfast-table.  So  successful  were  his  efforts,  that 
even  tho  deaf  old  lady  insisted  on  having  one  or  two  of  his  best  jokes 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  83 

retailed  through  the  trumpet ;  and  even  she  condescended  to  ohsenc 
to  the  spirf?;ter  aunt,  that  "he"'  (meanin;T  Jingle)  "was  an  impudent 
young  fellow" — a  sentiment  in  which  all  her  relations  then  and  ther^ 
present  thoroughly  coincided. 

It  was  the  old  lady's  habit  on  the  fine  summer  mornings  to  repair  to 
the  arbour,  in  which  Mr.  Tupman  ha/J  already  signalized  himself,  in 
form  and  manner  following  : — first,  the  fat  boy  fetched  from  a  peg 
behind  the  old  lady's  bed-room  door,  a  close  black  satin  bonnet,  a  warm 
cotton  shawl,  and  a  thick  stick  with  a  capacious  handle  ;  and  the  old 
lady  having  put  on  the  bonnet  and  shawl  at  her  leisure,  would  lean  one 
hand  on  the  stick  and  the  other  on  the  fat  boy's  shoulder,  and  walk 
leisurely  to  the  arbour,  where  the  faL  boy  would  leave  her  to  enjoy  the 
fresh  air  for  the  space  of  half  an  hour,  at  the  expiration  of  which  time 
he  would  return  and  re-conduct  her  back  to  the  house. 

The  old  lady  was  very  precise  and  very  particular:  and  as  this  cere- 
mony had  been  observed  for  three  successive  summers  without  the 
slightest  deviation  from  the  accustomed  form,  she  was  not  a  little 'sur- 
prised on  this  particular  morning,  to  see  the  fat  boy,'  instead  of  leaving 
the  arbour,  walk  a  few  paces  out  of  it,  look  carefully  round  him  in 
ever}'  direction,  and  return  towards  her  v/ith  great  stealth  and  an  air  of 
the  most  profound  mystery. 

The  old  lady  was  timorous — most  old  ladies  are — and  her  first  im- 
pression was  that  the  bloated  lad  was  about  to  do  her  some  grievous 
bodily  harm  with  the  view  of  possessing  himself  of  her  loose  coin. 
She  w<  uld  have  cried  for  assi.stance,  bul^  age  and  infirmity  had  long  ago 
deprived  her  of  the  power  of  screaming  ;  she,  therefore,  watched  his 
motions  with  feelings  o(  intense  terror,  which  were  in  no  degree 
diminished  by  his  comincr  up  close  to  her,  and  shouting  in  her  ear  in 
an  agitated,  and  as  it  seemed  to  her,  a  threatening  tone — 

"  Missus  I" 

>iow  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Jinffle  was  walking  In  the  g:;rden 
ck>se  to  the  arbour  at  this  moment.  He  too  heard  the  shout  of 
•'Missus,"  and  stopped  to  hear  more.  There  were  three  reasons  for 
his  doing  so.  In  the  first  place  he  was  idle  and  curious  ;  secondly,  he 
was  by  no  means  scrupulous  ;  thirdly,  and  lastly,  he  was  concealed 
from  view  by  soni:  flowering  shrubs.  So  there  he  stood,  and  then  he 
listened. 

"  Missus,''  shouted  the  fat  boy. 

"  Well  Joe,"  said  the  trembling  old  lady.  "  I'm*  sure  I  have  been  a 
irood  mistress  to  you,  Joe.  You  have  invariably  been  treated  very 
kindly.  You  have  never  had  too  much  to  do  ;  and  jou  have  always 
had  enough  to  eat."  -  * 

This  last  was  an  appeal  to  the  fat  boy's  most  sensitive  feelings.  He 
seemed  touched  as  he  replied,  emphatically, — 

"  I  knows  I  has." 

"  Then  what  can  you  want  to  do  now  I'  said  the  old  lady,  gaming 
courage. 

"  I  wants  to  make  your  flesh  creep,"  replied  the  boy. 

This  sounded  like  a  very  blood-thirsty  mode  of  showing  one's  grati- 
tude ;  and  as  the  old  lady  did  not  precisely  understand  the  process  by 
■which  such  a  result  was  to  be  attained,  all  her  former  horrors  re- 
turned. 

•'  What  do  you  think  I  see  in  this'very  arbour  last  night  ?"'  inquired 
the  boy. 


84  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

*'  Bless  US  !  What :"  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  alarmed  at  the  solemn 
manner  of  the  corpulent  youth. 

"  The  strange  ^rentleman— him  as  had  his  arm  hurt — a  kissin'  and 
l^liggin' " 

♦'  Who,  Joe — who  1     None  of  the  servants,  I  hope." 

'*  Worser  than  that,"  roared  the  fat  boy,  in  the  old  lady's  ear. 

*'  Not  one  of  my  grand-da'aters  1" 

"  Worser  than  that." 

*'  Worse  than  that,  Joe  !"  said  the  M  lady,  who  had  thought  this  the 
extreme  limit  of  human  atrocity.  "  Who  was  it,  Joe  1  I  insist  upon 
knowing." 

The  tat  boy  looked  cautiously  round,  and  having  concluded  his  sur- 
vey, shouted  in  the  old  lady's  ear, — 

"  Mi.«s  Kachael." 

"  What  ]   said  the  old  lady,  in  a  shrill  tone,  "  Speak  louder." 

"  Miss  RachacL"  roared  the  fat  boy. 

"  My  da'ater  !" 

The  train  of  nods  which  the  fat  boy  gave  by  way  of  assent,  com- 
municated d  hUinc-mangc  like  motion  to  liis  fat  cheeks. 

"And  she  suffered  him  !"  exclaimed  the  old  lady. 

A  grill  stole  over  the  fat  boy's  features  as  he  said, — 

«  I  see  her  a  kissin'  of  him  agin." 

If  Mr.  Jingle,  from  his  place  of  concealment,  could  have  beheld  the 
cxpressiuti  which  tlie  old  lady's  face  assumed  at  this  communication, 
the  prnbsbility  is  that  a  sudden  burst  of  laughter  would  have  betrayed 
his  clo--e  vicinity  to  the  summer-house.  He  listened  attentively. 
Fragments  of  angry  sentences  such  as,  "  W^ithoul  my  permission  !"' — 
"  At  hf^r  time  of  life" — "  Miserable  old  'ooman  like  me" — "  .Might  have 
waited  till  I  was  dead,"  and  so  forth,  reached  his  ear  ;  and  then  he 
heard  the  heels  of  the  fat  boy's  boots  crunching  the  gravel,  as  he  retired 
and  left  the  old  lady  alone. 

It  was  a  remarkable  coincidence  perhaps,  but  it  was  nevertheless  a 
fact,  that  Mr.  Jingle,  within  five  minutes  after  his  arrival  at  Manor 
Farm  on  the  preceding  night,  had  inwardly  resolved  to  lay  siege  to  the 
heart  of  the  spinster  aunt,  without  delay.  He  had  observation  enough 
to  secthat  his  off-hand  manner  was  by  no  means  disagreeable  to  the 
fair  object  of  his  attack  ;  and  he  had  more  than  a  strong  suspicion  that 
8he  possessed  that  most  desirable  of  all  requisites,  a  small  indepen- 
dence. The  imperative  necessity  of  ousting  his  rival  by  some  means 
or  other,  Hashed  quickly  upon  him,  and  he  immediately  resolved  to 
adopt  certain  proceedings  tending  to  that  end  and  object  without  a 
moment's  delay.  Fielding  tells  us  thaf  man  is  fire,  and  woman  tow, 
and  the  Prince  of  Darkness  sets  a  light  to  'em.  Mr.  Jingle  knew  that 
young  men,  to  spinster  aunts,  are  as  lighted  gas  to  gunpowder,  and  he 
determined  to  essay  the  effect  of  an  explosion  without  loss  of  time. 

Full  of  reflection  upon  this  important  decision,  he  crept  from  his 
place  of  concealment,  and,  under  cover  of  the  shrubs  before  mentioned, 
approached  the  house.  Fortune  seemed  determined  to  favour  his 
'lesign.  Mr.  Tupman  and  the  rest  of  the  gentlemen  left  the  garden  by 
the  *ide  gate  Just  as  he  obtained  a  view?  of  it :  and  the  young  ladies 
he  knew  had  walked  out  alone,  soon  after  breakfast.  The  coast  was 
clear. 

The  breakfast-parlour  door  wds  partially  open.  ,  He  peeped  in. 
I'he  spinster  aunt  was  knitting.     He  coughed  ;  she  looked  up  and 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  B5 

smiled.  Hesitation  formed  no  part  of  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle's  character.  He 
laid  his  finger  on  his  lips  mysteriously,  walked  in,  and  closed  the  door. 

"  Miss  Wardle,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  with  affected  earnestness,  "  forgive 
intrusion — short  acquaintance — no  time  for  ceremony — all  discovered." 

•'Sir?"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  rather  astonished  by  the  unexpected 
apparition,  and  somewhat  doubtful  of  Mr.  Jingle's  s?nity. 

"Hush  !"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  in  a  stage  whisper  ; — "  large  boy — dump- 
ling face — round  e^es — rascal !"  Here  he  shook  his  head  expressively, 
and  the  spinster  aunt  trembled  with  agitation. 

"  I  presume  you  allude  to  Joseph,  sir  !"  said  the  lady,  making  an 
effort  to  appear  composed. 

"  Yes,  ma'am — d — n  that  Joe  I — treacherous  dog,  Joe — told  the  old 
lady — old  lady  furious — wild — raving — arbour — Tupman — kissing  and 
hugging — all  that  sort  of  thing — eh,  ma'am — eh?" 

"Mr.  Jingle,"  said  the  spmster  aunt,  "if  you  come  here  sir,  to 
insult  nie " 

"  Not  at  all — by  no  means,"  replied  the  unabashed  Mr.  Jingle  : — 
•'overheard  the  tale — came  to  warn  you  of  your  danger — tender  my 
services — prevent  the  hubbub.  Never  mind — think  it  an  insult — leave 
the  room  ;"  and  he  turned,  as  if  to  carry  the  threat  into  execution. 

"  What  sliall  I  do  1"  said  the  poor  spinster,  bursting  into  tears. 
*'  My  brother  will  be  furious  I" 

"l)f  course  he  will,"  said  Mr.  Jingle, pausing — "outrageous." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Jingle,  what  can  I  say  !"  exclaimed  the  spinster  aunt,  in 
another  flood  of  despair. 

'•  Say  he  dreamt  it,"  replied  Mr  Jingle,-  coolly. 

A  ray  of  comfort  darted  across  the  mind  of  the  spinster  aunt  at  thi^ 
suggestion.     Mr.  Jingle  perceived  it,  and  followed  up  his  advantage. 

'•Pooh,  pooh  ! — nothing  more  easy — blackguard  boy — lovely  woman 
— fat  boy  horsewhipped — you  believed — end  of  the  matter — all  com- 
fortable." 

Whether  the  probability  of  escaping  from  the  consequences  of  this 
ill-timed  discovery  was  delightful  to  the  spinster's  feelings,  or  whether 
the  hearing  herself  described  as  a  "  lovely  woman"  softened  the  as- 
perity of  her  grief,  we  know  not.  She  blushed  slightly,  and  cast  a 
grateful  look  on  Mr.  Jingle. 

That  insinuating  gentleman  sighed  deeply,  fixed  his  eyes  on  the 
spinster  aunt's  face  for  a  couple  of  minute^  started  melo-dramatically, 
and  suddenly  withdrew  them. 

'•You  seem  unhappy,  Mr.  Jingle,"  said  the  lady,  in  a  plaintive 
voice.  "  May  I  show  my  gratitude  for  your  kind  interference,  by  in- 
quiring into  the  cause,  with'  a  view,  if  possible,  to  its  removal  ?" 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Jingle,  with  another  start — "removal!  re- 
move my  unhappiness,  and  your  love  bestowed  upon  a  man  who  is 
insensible  to  the  blessing — who  even  now  contemplates  a  design  upon 
the  affections  of  the  niece  of  the  creature  who — but  no  ;  he  is  my 
friend  ;  I  will  not  expose  his  vices.  Miss  Wardle — farewell !"  At 
the  conclusion  of  this  address,  the  most  consecutive  he  was  ever  known 
to  utter,  Mr.  Jingle  applied  to  his  eyes  the  remnant  of  a  handkerchief 
belbre  noticed,  and  turned  towards  the  door. 

"Stay,  Mr.  Jingle  I"  said  the  spinster  aunt  emphatically.  "Yoa 
have  made  an  allusion  to  Mr.  Tupman — explain  it." 

"  Never  !"  exclaimed  Jingle,  with  a  professional  (i.  e.  theatrical)  air. 
*«  Never  !''  and,  by  way  of  showing  that  he  bad  no  desire  to  bo  que** 

Vol.  I.— 8 


86  POSTHUMOUS  PAPEK8  OP 

tioncd  farther,  he  drew  a  chair  close  to  that  of  the  spinster  aunt  anci 
sat  clown. 

"  Mr.  Jintjle,"  said  the  aunt,  "  I  entreat — I  implore  you,  if  there  is 
any  dreadful  mystery  connected  with  Mr.  Tupman,  reveal  it." 

"Can  I,"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  fixing  his  eyes  on  the  aunt's  face — "  Can 
I  see — lovely  creature — sacrificed  at  the  shrine — heartless  avarice  '." 
He  appeared  to  he  struggling  with  various  conflicting  emotions  for  a 
fjw  second-s,  and  then  said  in  a  low  deep  voice — "  Tupman  only  wants 
your  money." 

"  The  wretch  !"  e.'^claimed  the  spinster,  with  energetic  indignation, 
(Mr.  Jingle's  douhts  were  resolved.     She  hud  money.) 

"  More  than  that,"  said  Jingle — "  loves  another." 
Another  !"  ejaculated  the  spinster.     "  Whol" 

"  Short  girl — black  eyes — niece  Emily." 

There  was  a  pause. 

Now  if  there  were  one  individual  in  the  whole  world,  of  whom  the 
spinster  aunt  entertained  a  mortal  and  deeply-rooted  jealousy,  it  was 
this  identical  niece.  The  colour  rushed  over  her  face  and  neck,  and 
she  tossed  her  head  in  silence  with  an  air  of  ineffable  contempt.  ■  At 
last  biting  her  thin  lips,  and  bridling  up,  she  said, — 

"  It  can't  be.     I  won't  believe  it." 

"  Watcii  'em,"  said  Jingle. 

"  I  will,"  said  the  aunt. 

"  Watch  his  looks." 

"Iwill." 

•'  His  whispers." 
,    ••  I  will." 

"  He'll  sit  next  her  at  table." 

"Let  him." 

"He'll  flatter  her." 

"Let  him." 

"  He'll  pay  her  every  possible  attention." 

"Let  him." 
And  he  11  cut  you." 

Cut  771C .'"  screamed  the  spinster  aunt.     "iZe  cut  mc — toill  hel^ 
and  she  trembled  with  rage  and  disappointment. 

"  You  will  convince  yourself?'  said  Jingle.  , 

"  1  will."  c 

"  YouMI  show  your  spirit  ?" 

«'  I  will." 

*'  You'll  not  have  him  afterward  1"  ' 

".Never." 

"  You'll  take  somebody^lse  1" 

«  Yes.' 

"You  shall." 

Mr.  Jingle  fell  on  his  knees,  remained  thereupon  for  five  minutes 
thereafter  ;  and  rose  the  accepted  lover  of  the  spinster  aunt — condition- 
ally upon  Tupman's  perjury  being  made  clear  and  manifest. 

The  burden  of  proof  lay  with  Mr. 'Alfred  Jingle  ;  and  he  produced 
his  evidence  that  very  day  at  dinner.  The  spinster  aunt  could  hardly 
believe  her  eyes.  Mr.  Tracy  Tupman  was  established  at  Emily's  sid©. 
Ogling,  whispering,  and  smiling  in  opposition  to  Mr.  Snodgrass.  Not 
a  word,  not  a  look,  not  a  glance,  did  be  bestow  upon  his  heart's  pride 
of  the  evening  before. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLITB.  87 

«'!)— n  that  boy  !"  thought  old  Wardle  to  himself.  He  had  heard 
the  story  from  his  mother.  "  I) — n  that  boy  !  he  must  have  been 
asleep.     It's  all  imagination."' 

"  Traitor  !"  thought  the  spinster  aunt  to  herself  "  Dear  Mr.  Jingle 
was  not  deceiving  me.     Oh  !  how  I  hate  the  wretch  !" 

The  following  conversation  may  serve  to  explain  to  our  readers  thi« 
apparently  unaccountable  alteration  of  department  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Tracy  Tupman. 

The  time  was  evening,  the  scene  the  garden.  There  were  two 
figures  walking  in  a  side  path  ;  one  was  rather  short  and  stout — the 
other  rather  tall  and  slim.  They  were  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Jingle. 
The  stout  figure  commenced  the  dialogue. 

"  How  did  I  do  it  T'  he  inquired. 

"  Splendid — capital — couldn't  act  better  myself.  You  must  repeat 
the  part  to-morrow — every  evening,  till  farther  notice. 

'*  Does  Rachael  still  wish  it !" 

*<  Of  course — she  don't  like  it — but  must  be  done-^avert  suspicion — 
afraid  of  her  brother — says  there's  no  help  for  it — only  a  few  days  more 
— when  old  folks  blinded,  crown  your  happiness." 

"  Any  message  ]" 

"  Love — best  love — kindest  regard — unalterable  affection.  Can  I 
say  arty  thing  for  you  V  • 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  replied  the  unsuspicious  Mr.  Tupman,  fenently 
gra.sping  his  "  friend's"  hand — "  carrv'  my  best  love — say  how  hard  I 
find  it  to  dissemble — say  any  thing  that's  kind  ;  but  add  how  sensible 
I  am  of  the  necessity  of  the  suggestion  she  mad*  to  me,  through  you, 
this  morning.     Say  1  applaud  her  wisdom,  and  admire  her  discretion." 

"  I  will.     Any  thing  more  I" 

**  Nothing  ;  only  add  how  ardently  I  long  for  the  time  when  I  may 
call  her  mine,  and  all  dissimulation  may  be  unnecessary." 

"  Certainly,  certainly.     Any  thing^more  ?" 

"  Oh,  my  friend  I"  said  poor  Mr.  Tupman,  again  graspingr  the  hand 
of  his  companion  ;  "  receive  my  warmest  thanks  for  your  disinterested 
kindness  ;  and  forgive  me  if  I  have  ever,  even  in  thought,  done  you 
the  injustice  of  supposing  that  you  could  stand  in  my  way.  My  dear 
friend,  can  I  ever  repay  you  ]" 

*' Don't  talk  of  it,"  replied  Mr.  Jinorle.  He  stopped  short,  as  if  sud- 
denly recollecting  something,  and  said — **By-the-by,  you  can't  spare 
ten  pounds,  can  you! — very  particular  purpose — pay  you  in  three 
days." 

"  I  dare  say  I  can,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart. 
"Three  days,  you  say!" 

"  Only  three  days — all  over  then — no  more  difficulties." 

Mr.  Tupman  counted  the  money  into  his  companion's  hand,  and  h« 
dro{»ped  it  piece  by  piece  into  his  pocket  as  they  walked  towards  the 
house, 

"  Be  careful,"  said  Mr.  Jingle— "not  a  look." 

"  Xot  a  wink,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  IS'ot  a  syllable." 

*'  Not  a  whisper." 

"  All  your  attentions  to  the  niece — rather  rude,  than  otherwise,  to  th« 
aunt — only  way  of  deceiving  the  old  ones." 

"  I'll  ta.ke  care,"  said  .Mr.  Tupman,  aloud. 


88  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS  OF 

"  And  I'll  take  care,''  said  Mr.  Jingle,  internally  ;  and  they  entered 
the  house. 

The  scene  of  tha't  afternoon  was  repeated  that  evening,  and  on  the 
three  afternoons  and  evenings  next  ensuing.  On  the  fourth  the  host 
"vva^  in  high  spirits,  for  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  there  was  no  ground 
for  the  charge  against  Mr.  Tupman.  So  was  Mr.  Tupman,  for  Mr. 
Jingle  had  told  him  that  this  affair  would  soon  be  brought  to  a  crisis. 
So  was 'Mr.  Pickwick,  for  he  was  seldom  otherwise.  So  was  not  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  for  he  had  grown  jealous  of  Mr.  Tupman.  So  was  the  old 
lady,  for  she  had  been  winning  at  whist.  So  were  Mr.  Jingle  and 
Miss  Wardle,  for  reasons  of  sufficient  importance  in  this  eventful 
history,  to  be  narrated  in  another  chapter. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


A  DISCOVERY  AND  A  CHASE. 

The  supper  wajs  ready  laid,  the  chairs  were  drawn  round  the  table, 
bottles,  jug&and  glasses  were  arranged  upon  the  sideboard,  and  every 
thing  betokened  the  approach  of  the  most  convivial  period  in  the  whole 
four-and-twenty  hours. 

"Where's  Rachaefl"  said  Mr.  Wardle. 

"  Ay,  and  Jingle  1"  added  Mr.  Pickwick. 

♦'  Dear  me,"  said  the  host,  "  I  wonder  I  haven't  missed  him  before. 
Why,  I  don't  think  I've  heard  his  voice  for  two  hours  at  least.  Emily, 
my  dear,  ring  the  bell." 

The  bell  was  rung,  and  the  fat  boy  appeared. 
"  Where's  Miss  Rachael  ?"     He  couldn't  say. 

"Where's  Mr.  Jingle,  then  1"     He  didn't  know. 

Every  body  looked  surprised.  It  was  late — past  eleven  o'clock. 
Mr.  Tupman  laughed  in  his  sleeve.  They  were  loitering  somewhere, 
talking  about  him.     Ha,  ha  !  capital  notion  that — funny. 

"Never  mind,"  said  Wardle,  after  a  short  pause,  "  they'll  turn  up 
presently,  I  dare  say.     I  never  wait  supper  for  any  body." 

"  Excellent  rule,  that,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  admirable." 

'•  Pray,  sit  down,"  said  the  host. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  :  and  down  they  sat. 

There  was  a  gigantic  round  of  cold  beef  on  the  table,  and  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  supplied  with  a  plentiful  portion  of  it.  He  had  raised  his 
fork  to  his  lips,  and  was  on  the  very  point  of  opening  his  mouth  for 
the  reception  of  a  piece  of  beef,  when  the  hum  of  many  voices  suddenly 
arose  in  the  kitchen.  He  paused,  and  laid  down  his  fork.  Mr.  War- 
dle paused  too,  and  inf  ensibly  released  his  hold  of  the  carving-knife, 
which  remained  inserted  in  the  beef  He  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick.  Mr. 
Pickwick  looked  at  him. 

Heavy  footsteps  were  heard  in  the  passage  ;  the  parlour  door  was 
suddenly  burst  open  ;  and  the  man  who  had  cleaned  Mr.  Pickwick's 
boots  on  his  first  arrival,  rushed  into  the  room,  followed  by  the  fat  boy, 
«nd  all  the  domestics.' 

<'  What's  the  meaning  of  all  this  ?"  exclaimed  the  host. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  60 

**The  kitchen  chimney  ain't  a-fire,  is  it,  Emmal"  inquired  the  old 
1-ady. 

•'  Oh,  grandma  !  no,"  screamed  both  the  young  ladies. 

*'  What's  the  matter  T'  roared  the  master  of  the  house. 

The  man  gasped  for  breath,  and  faintly  ejaculated — 
"  They  ha'  gone,  mas'r  I — gone  right  clean  off,  sir  !"    (At  this  junc- 
ture, Mr.  Tupman  was  observed  to  lay  down  his  knife  and  fork,  and 
to  turn  very  pale.) 

*'  Who's  gone  ]"  said  Mr.  Wardle  fiercely. 

**Mus'r  Jmgle  and  Miss  Rachael,  in  a  po'-chay,  from  Blue  Lion,  Mug- 
gleton.     I  was  there  ;  but  I  couldn't  stop  'em  :  so  I  run  off  to  tell  'ee.'' 

"  I  paid  his  expenses  I"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  jumping  up  frantically. 
•'  He's  got  ten  pounds  of  mine  !  stop  him  ! — he's  swindled  me  ! — I 
won't  bear  it ! — I'll  have  justice,  Pickwick  ! — I  won't  stand  it !"  and 
wiih  sundry  incoherent  exclamations  of  the  like  nature,  the  unhappy 
gentleman  spun  round  and  round  the  apartment,  in  a  transport  of 
frenzy. 

^' Lord  preserve  us  !"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  eying  the  extraordi- 
nary gestures  of  his  friend  with  terrified  surprise.  "  He's  gone  mad  ! 
What  shall  we  do  V 

"  Do  I"  said  the  stout  old  host,  who  regarded  only  the  last  words  of 
the  sentence.  "  Put  the  horse  in  the  gig  !  I'll  get  a  chaise  at  the 
Lion,  and  follow  'em  instantly.  Where'"" — he  exclaimed,  as  the  man 
ran  out  to  execute  the  commission — '•  W^herc's  that  villain,  Joe  !" 

"  Here  I  am  ;  but  I  han't  a  villain,"  replied  a  voice.  It  was  the 
fat  boy's. 

"  Let  me  get  at  him,  Pickwick  !"  cried  Wardle,  as  he  rushed  at  the 
ill-starred  youth.  "He  was  bribed  ^y  that  scoundrel.  Jingle,  to  put 
me  on  a  wrong  scent,  by  telling  a  cock-and-a-bull  story  of  my  sister  and 
your  friend  Tupman  I"  (Here  .Mr.  l\ipman  sunk  into  a  chair.)  '*  Let 
me  get  at  h.^.i  I" 

*' Don't  let  him!"  screamed  all  the  women,  above  whose  exclama- 
tions, the  blubbering  of  the  fat  boy  was  distinctly  audible. 

«« I  won't  be  held  !"  cried  the  old  man.  "  Mr.  Winkle,  take  your 
hands  off!     Mr.  Pickwick,  let  me  go,  sir!" 

It  was  a  beautiful  sight,  in  that  moment  of  turmoil  and  confusion, 
to  behold  the  placid  and  phili)sophical  expression  of  Mr.  Pickwick's 
face,  albeit  somewhat  flushed  with  exertion,  as  he  stood  with  his  arms 
firmly  clasped  round  the  extensive  waist  of  their  corpulent  host,  thus 
restraining  the  impetuosity  of  his  passion,  while  the  fat  boy  wa* 
scratched,  and  pulled,  and  pushed  from  the  room  by  all  the  femalea 
congregated  therein.  He  had  no  sooner  released  his  hold,  than  tha 
man  entered  to  announce  that  the  gig  was  ready. 

"  Don't  let  him  go  alone !"  screamed  the  females.  "  He'll  kill 
somebody  !" 

♦•  I'll  go  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  You're  a  good  follow,  Pickwick,"  said  the  host,  gra«:ping  his  hand- 
*'  Emma,  rrive  Mr.  Pickwick  a  shawl  to  tie  round  his  neck — make 
haste.  L<iok  after  your  grandmother,  girls  ;  she's  fainted  away.  NoW 
then,  are  you  ready  1" 

Mr.  Pickwick's  mouth  and  chin  having  been  hastily  enveloped  in  a 
large  shawl  :  his  hat  having  been  put  on  his  head,  and  his  great  coat 
thrown  over  his  arm,  he  replied  in  the  affimalive. 

They  jumped  into  the  gig.     "  Give  her  her  head,  Tom,'"  cried  the 
8* 


90  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OT 

Jiost ;  and  away  they  went,  down  the  narrow  lanes  :  jolting  in  and  oat 
of  the  cart-ruts,  and  bumping  up  against  the  hedges  on  cither  side,  a» 
if  they  would  go  to  pieces  every  moment. 

"  How  much  are  they  ahead  !"  shouted  Wardb,  as  they  drove  up 
to  tlio  door  of  the  Blue  Lion,  round  which  a  little  crowd  had  collected, 
late  as  it  was. 

**Not  above  three-quarters  of  an  hour,''  was  every  body's  reply. 

"  Chaise  and  four  directly  ! — out  with  'em  !  Put  up  the  gig  after- 
ward." 

*'  Now,  boys  !"  cried  the  landlord — *'  chaise  and  four  out — make 
haste — look  alive  there  !" 

Away  ran  the  hostlers  and  the  boys.  The  lanterns  glimmered,  as 
the  men  ran  to  and  fro  ;  the  horses'  hoofs  clattered  on  the  uneven 
pavinw  of  the  yard ;  the  chaise  rumbled  as  it  was  drawn  out  of  the 
coach-house  ;  and  all  was  noise  and  bustle. 

"  Now  then  I — Is  that  chaise  coming  out  to-might  1"  cried  Wardle, 

♦*  Coming  down  the  yard  now,  sir,"  replied  the  hostler. 

Out  came  the  chaise — in  went  the  horses — on  sprung  the  boys — iji 
got  the  travellers. 

"  Mind — the  seven  mile  stage  in  less  than  half  an  hour  !"  shouted 
Wardle. 

"Oft' with  you!" 

Tiie  boys  applied  whip  and  spur,  the  waiters  shouted,  the  hostler 
cheered,  and  away  they  went,  fast  and  furiously. 

"Pretty  situation,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  he  had  had  a 
moment's  time  for  reflection.  ''  Pretty  situation  for  the  General  Chair- 
man of  the  Pickwick  Club.  Damp  chaise — strange  horses — fifteen 
miles  an  hour,  and  twelve  o'clock  at  night !" 

For  the  first  three  or  four  miles,  not  a  word  was  spoken  by  either  of 
the  gentlemen,  each  being  too  much  immersed  in  his  own  reflections, 
to  address  any  observations  to  his  companion.  When  they  had  gone 
over  that  much  ground,  however,  and  the  horses,  getting  thoroughly 
warmed,  began  to  do  their  work  in  really  good  style,  Mr.  Pickwick 
became  too  much  exhilarated  with  the  rapidity  of  the  motion,  to  remain 
any  longer  perfectly  mute.  , 

"  We're  sure  to  catch  tlvem,  I  think,"  said  he. 

"Hope  so,"  replied  his  companion. 

"  Fine  night,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  up  at  the  moon,  which 
was  shining  brightly. 

"  So  much  the  worse,"  returned  Wardle  ;  "  for  they'll  have  liad  all 
the  advantage  of  the  moonlight  to  get  start  of  us,  and  we  shall  lose  it. 
It  will  have  gone  down  in  another  hour." 

"  It  will  be  rather  unpleasant  going  at  this  rate  in  the  datk,  won't 
it  V  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  dare  say  it  will,"  replied  his  friend,  drily. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  temporary  excitement  began  to  sober  down  a  little, 
as  he  reflected  upon  the  inconveniences  and  dangers  of  the  expedition 
in  which  he  had  so  thoughtlessly  embarked.  He  was  roused"  by  a  loud 
shouting  of  the  post-boy  on  theieader. 

"  Yo,  yo,  yo,  yo,  yoe  !"  went  the  first  boy. 
"  Yo,  yo,  yo,  yoe  !"  went  the  second. 

"  Yo,  yo,  yo,  yoe  !"'  chimed  in  old  Wardle  himself,  most  lustily,  with 
his  head  and  half  his  body  out  of  the  coach  window. 

"  Yo,  yo,  ya,  yoe !"  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  up  the  burden  of 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  91 

the  cry,  though  he  had  not  the  slightest  notion  of  its  meaning  or  object. 
And  amidst  the  yo  yoina  of  the  whole  four,  the  chaise  stopped. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  There's  a  gate  here,'"  replied  old  Wardle.  "  We  shall  hear  some- 
thing of  the  fugitives  ■■ 

After  a  lapse  of  five  minutes,  consumed  in  incessant  knocking  and 
shouting,  an  old  man  in  his  shirt  and  trousers  emerged  from  the  turn- 
pike-house, and  opened  the  gate. 

"  How  long  is  it  since  a  post-chaise  went  through  herd"  inquired 
Mr.  Wardle. 

*'  How  long  ?" 

"Ah!" 

"  Why,  I  don't  rightly  know.  It  wom't  a  long  time  ago,  nor  it 
wom't  a  short  time  ago — just  between  the  two,  perhaps." 

"  Has  any  chaise  been  by  at  all  T' 

"  Oh  yes,  there's  been  a  chay  by." 

"  How^  long  ago,  my  friend."  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  an  hour  ■" 
,  "Ah,  I  dare  say  it  might  be,"  replied  the  man. 

"  Or  two  hours  V  inquired  the  post-boy  on  the  wheeler. 

"  Well,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  was,''  returned  the  old  man,  doubt- 
fully. 

•'  Drive  on  boys,"'  cried  the  testy  old  gentleman  ;  "don't  waste  any 
more  time  with  that  old  idiot  !"^ 

"  Idiot  I"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  with  a  grin,  as  he  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  with  the  gate  half  closed,  watching  the  chaise, 
•which  rapidly  diminished  in  the  increasing  distance.  "  No — not  much 
o'  that  neither;  you've  lost  ten  minutes  here,  and  gone  away  as  wise 
as  you  came  arter  all.  If  every  man  on  the  line  as  has  a  guinea  give 
him  earns  it  half  so  well,  you  won't  catch  t'other  chay  this  side  Mich'l- 
mas,  old  short -and -fat."  And  with  another  prolonged  grin,  the  old 
man  closed  the  gate,  re-entering  his  house,  and  bolted  the  door  after  him. 

Meanwhile  the  chaise  proceeded,  without  any  slackening  of  pace, 
towards  the  conclusion  of  the  stafje.  The  moon,  as  Wardle  liad  fore- 
told, was  rapidly  on  the  wane  ;  large  tiers  of  dark  heavy  clouds  v.hich 
had  been  gradually  overspreading  the  sky  for  some  time  past,  now- 
formed  one  black  mass  overhead  ;  and  large  drops  of  rain  which  pat- 
tered every  now  and  then  again.^t  the  windows  of  the  chaise,  seemed  to 
warn  the  travellers  of  the  rapid  approach  of  a  stormy  night.  The  wind, 
too,  which  was  directly  against  them,  swept  in  furious  gusts  down  the 
narrow  road,  and  howled  dismally  through  the  trees  which  skirted  the 
pathway.  Mr.  Pickwick  drew  his  coat  closer  about  him,  coiled  himself 
more  snugly  up  into  the  comer  of  the  chaise,  and  fell  into  a  sound 
sleep,  from  which  he  was  only  awakened  by  the  stopping  of  the  vehicle, 
the  soufd  of  the  hostler's  bell,  and  a  loud  cry  of  "  Horses  on  directly  !'* 

But  here  another  delay  occurred.  The  bovs  were  sleeping  \flth  such 
mysterious  soundness,  that  it  took  five  minutes  apiece  to  wake  them. 
The  hostler  had  some  how  or  other  mislaid  t!ie  1  ey  of  the  stable,  and 
even  when  that  was  found,  two  sleepy  helpers  put  the  wrong  har- 
ness on  the  wrong  horses,  and  the  whole  process  of  harnessing  had  to 
be  gone  throagh  afresh.  Had  Mr.  Pickwick  been  alone,  tlie.^e  multi- 
plied obstacles  would  have  completely  put  an  end  to  the  pur.^uit  at  once, 
but  old  Wardle  was  not  to  l)e  so  easily  daunted;  and  he  laid  about 
him  with  such  hearty  good  will,  culling  this  man,  and  j)ushing  that  ; 
strapping  a  buckle  here,  and  taking  in  a  link  there,  that  the  chaise  was 


Oi  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

rrady  in  a  much  shorter  time  than  could  reasonably  have  been  expected^ 
under  so  niany  diflicullies. 

They  resumed  their  journey  ;  and  certainly  the  prospect  before  them 
was  by  no  means  encouraginir.  The  stage  was  tifteen  miles  long,  the 
night  was  dark,  the  wind  high  and  the  rain  pouring  in  torrents.  It 
was  impossible  to  make  any  great  way  against  such  obstacles  united : 
it  was  hard  upon  one  o'clock  already  ;  and  nearly  two  hours  were  con- 
sumed in  getting  to  the  end  of  the  stage.  Here  however  an  object  pre- 
sented itself,  which  re-kindled  their  hopes,  and  re-animated  their  droop- 
ing spirits. 

"  When  did  this  chaise  come  inl"  cried  old  Wardle,  leaping  out  of 
his  own  vehicle,  and  pointing  to  one  covered  with  wet  mud,  which  was 
standing  in  the  yard. 

"  Not  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  sir  ;"  replied  the  hostler  to  whom 
the  question  was  addressed. 

"  Lady  and  gentleman  1"  inquired  Wardle,  almost  breathless  with 
impatience. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Tall  gentleman — dress  coat — long  legs- — thin  bodyl" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Elderly  lady — thin  face — rather  skinny — eh?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  By  heavens  !  it's  them,  Pickwick,"  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman, 

"  Would  have  been  here  before,"  said  the  hostler,  "  but  they  broke 
a  trace." 

"  'Tis  them,"  said  Wardle,  it  is,  by  Jove  !  Chaise  and  four  in- 
stantly. We  shall  catch  them  yet,  before  they  reach  the  next  stage, 
A  guinea  apiece,  boys — be  alive  there — -bustle  about — there's  good 
fellows." 

And  with  such  admonitions  as  these,  the  old  gentleman  ran  up  and 
down  the  yard,  and  bustled  to  and  fro,  in  a  state  of  excitement  which 
communicated  itself  to  .Mr.  Pickwick  also  ;  and  under  the  influence  of 
which  that  gentleman  got  himself  into  complicated  entanglements  with  ^ 
harness,  and  mixed  up  with  horses  and  wheels  of  chaises,  in  the  most 
surprising  manner,  firmly  believing  that  by  so  doing,  he  was  materially 
forwarding  the  preparations  for  their  resuming  their  journey. 

"  Jump  in — jump  in  !"  cried  old  Wardle,  climbing  into  the  chaise, 
pulling  up  the  steps,  and  slanunlng  the  door  after  him.  "  Come  along, 
make  haste  "  And  before  Mr.  Pickwick  knew  precisely  what  he  waa 
about,  he  felt  himself  forced  in  at  the  other  door,  by  one  pull  from  the 
old  gentleman,  and  one  push  from  the  hostler  ;  and  off  they  were  again. 

"Ah!  we  arc  moving  now,"  said  the  old  gentleman  exultingly. 
They  were,  indeed,  as  was  sufficiently  testified  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  by 
his  constant  collisions  either  v.'ith  the  hard  wood-work  of  thmchaise,. 
or  the  body  of  his  companion. 

"  Hold  up  !"  said  the  stout  old  Mr.  Wardle,  as  Mrt  Pickwick  dived 
head  foreniost  into  hii.  capacious  wai.stcoat. 

"  I  never  did  feel  such  a  jolting  in  my  life,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Never  mind,"  replied  his  companion,  "  it'll  soon  be  over.  Steady;, 
steady." 

Mr.  Pickwick  planted  himself  into  his  own  corner,  as  firmly  as  he 
could  ;  and  on  whirled  the  chaise  faster  than  ever. 

They  had  travelled  in  this  way  about  three  miles,  when  Mr.  Wardle, 
\rho  had  been  looking  out  of  the  window  for  two  or  three  minutes,  sud- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  93 

deiily  drew  in  his  face,  covered  with  splashes,  and  exclaimed  in  breath- 
less eagerness — 
"  Here  they  are  !" 

Mr.  Pickwick  thrust  his  head  out  of  his  window.  Yes  :  there  was 
a  chaise  and  four,  a  short  distance  before  them,  dashing  along  at  full 
gallop. 

"  Go  on,  go  on,"  almost  shrieked  the  old  gentleman.  "  Two  guineas 
apiece,  boys — don't  let  'em  gain  on  us — keep  it  up — keep  it  up." 

The  horses  in  the  first  chaise  started  on  at  their  utmost  speed ;  and 
those  in  Mr.  Wardle's  galloped  furiously  behind  them. 

"I  see  his  head,"  exclaimed  the  choleric  old  man,  "damme,  I  see 
his  head." 

*'  So  do  I,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,   "that's  he." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  not  mistaken.  The  countenance  of  Mr.  Jingle, 
completely  coated  with  mud  thrown  up  by  the  wheels,  was  plainly  dis- 
cernible at  the  window  of  his  chaise  ;  and  the  motion  of  his  arm,  which 
he  was  waving  violently  towards  the  postilions,  denoted  that  he  was 
encouraging  them  to  increased  exertion. 

The  interest  was  intense.  Fields,  trees,  and  hedges,  seemed  to 
rush  past  them  with  the  velocity  of  a  whirlwind,  so  rapid  was  the  pace 
at  which  they  tore  along.  They  were  close  by  the  side  of  the  first 
chaise.  Jingle's  voice  could  be  plainly  heard,  even  above  the  din  of 
the  wheels,  urging  on  the  boys.  Old  Mr.  Wardle  foamed  with  rage 
and  excitement.  He  roared  out  scoundrels  and  villains  by  the  dozen, 
clenched  his  fist  and  shook  it  expressively  at  the  object  of  his  indigna- 
t'ion  ;  but  Mr.  Jingle  only  answered  with  a  contemptuous  smile,  and 
replied  to  his  menaces  by  a  shout  of  triumph,  as  his  horses,  answering 
to  the  increasing  application  of  whip  and  spur,  broke  into  a  faster  gal- 
lop, and  left  the  pursuers  behind. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  just  drawn  in  his  head,  and  Mr.  Wardle,  exhausted 
with  shouting  had  done  the  same,  when  a  tremendous  jolt  threw  them 
forward  against  the  front  of  the  vehicle.  There  was  a  sudden  bump 
— a  loud  crash — away  rolled  a  wheel,  and  over  went  the  chaise. 

After  a  very  few  seconds  of  bewilderment  and  confusion,  in  which 
nothing  but  the  plunging  of  horses,  and  breaking  of  glass  could  be- 
made  out,  Mr.  Pickwick  felt  himself  violently  pulled  out  from  amona 
the  ruins  of  the  chaise  ;  and  as  soon  as  he  had  gained  his  feet,  extri- 
cated his  head  from  the  skirts  of  his  great  coat,  which  materially 
impeded  the  usefulness  of  his  spectacles,  the  full  disaster  of  the  case 
met  his  view. 

Old  Mr.  Wardle  without  a  hat,  and  his  clothes  torn  in  several  places, 
stood  by  his  side,  and  the  fragments  of  the  chaiso  lay  scattered  at  their 
feet.  The  post-boys,  who  had  succeeded  in  cutting  the  traces,  were 
standing,  disfigured  with  mud  and  disordered' by  hard  riding,  by  the 
horses'  heads.  About  a  hundred  yards  in  advance  was  the  other  chaise, 
which  had  pulled  up  on  hearing  the  crash.  The  postilions,  each  with 
a  broad  grin  convulsing  his  countenance',  were  viewing  the  adverse 
j)arty  from  their  saddles,  and  .Mr.  Jingle  was  contemplating  the  wreck 
from  the  coach-window,  with  evident  satisfaction.  The  day  was  just 
breaking,  and  the  whole  scene  was  rendered  perfectly  visible  by  the 
gray  litrht  of  the  morning. 

"Hallo!"  shouted  the  shameless  Jingle,  "any  body  damaged!-^ 
elderly  gentlemen — no  light  weights — dangerous  work — very." 

"  You're  a  rascal !"'  roared  Wardle. 


94  POSTHDMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

'•Ha!  ha!"  replied  Jingle;  and  then  he  added,  with  a  knowing 
wink,  and  a  jerk  of  the  thumb  towards  the  interior  of  the  chaise — "  I 
say — she's  very  well — desires  her  compliments — begs  you  won'ftrouble 
yourself — love  to  Tnppy — won't  you  get  up  behind  !— -drive  on,  boya." 

The  postilions  resumed  their  proper  attitudes,  and  away  rattled  the 
chaise,  Mr.  Jingle  fluttering  in  derision  a  wuite  handkerchief  fiom  the 
coach  window. 

Nothing  in  the  whole  &dventure,  not  even  the  upset,  had  disturbed 
the  calm  and  equable  current  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  temper.  The  villany, 
however,  which  could  Urst  borrow  money  of  his  faithful  follower,  and 
then  abbreviate  his  name  to  "  Tuppy,"  was  more  than  he  could  pa- 
tiently bear.  He  drew  his  breath  hard  and  coloured  up  to  the  very  tips 
o^his  spectacles,  as  he  said,  slowly  and  emphatically — 

*'  If  ever  I  meet  that  man  again,  I'll — " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  interrupted  Wardle,  "  that's  all  very  well :  but  while 
we  stand  talking  here  they'll  get  their  license,  and  be  married  in  Lon- 
don." 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  bottled  up  his  vengeance,  and  corked  it  down. 

•'  How  far  is  it  to  the  next  stage?'  inquired  Mr.  Wardle  of  one  of 
the  boys. 

"  Six  mile,  ain't  it,  Tom?' 

<'  Rayther  better." 

*'  Rayther  better  nor  six  mile,  sir." 

*'  Can't  be  helped,"  said  Wardle  ;   "  we  must  walk  it,  Pickwick," 

"  No  help  for  it,"  replied  that  truly  great  man. 

So  sending  forward  one  of  the  boys  on  horseback,  to  procure  a  fresh 
chaise  and  horses,  and  leaving  the  other  behind  to  take  care  of  the  bro- 
_ken  one,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Wardle  set  manfully  forward  on  the 
walk,  first  tying  their  shawls  round  their  necks,  and  slouching  down 
their  hats  to  escape  as  much  as  possible  from  the  deluge  of  rain,  which 
after  a  slight  cessation,  had  again  begun  to  pour  heavily  down. 


CHAPTER  X. 

CLEARING  UP  ALL  DOUBTS  (iF  ANY  EXlSTEn)  OF  THE  DISINTERESTEDNESS 
OF  ?.1U.   jingle's  CHARACTER. 

There  are  in  London  several  old  inns,  once  the  head  quarters  of 
celebrated  coaches  in  the  days  when  coaches  performed  their  journeys 
in  a  graver  and  more  solemn  manner  than  they  do  in  these  times  ;  but 
which  have  now  degenerated  into  little  more  than  the  abiding  ^nd 
booking  places  of  country  wagons.  The  reader  would  look  in  vain  for 
any  of  these  ancient  hostelri.'s,  among  the  Golden  Crosses  and  Bull 
and  Mouths,  which  rear  their  stately  fronts  in  the  improved  streets  of 
TiOndon.  If  he  would  light  upon  any  of  these  old  places,  he  must 
direct  his  steps  to  the  obscurer  quarters  of  the  town  ;  and  there  in 
some  secluded  nooks  he  will  find  several,  still  standing  wi..h  a  kind  of 
gloomy  sturdiness,  amidst  the  modern  innovations  which  surround 
them. 

In  the  Borough  especially,  there  still  remain  some  half  dozen  old 


THE  PICKWIce  CLUB.  95 

inns,  which  have  prcsen-ed  their  external  features  unchanged,  and 
which  have  escaped  alike  the  rage  for  public  improvement,  and  the 
encroachments  of  private  speculations.  Great,  rambling,  queer  old 
places  they  are,  with  galleries,  and  passages  and  staircases,  wide 
enough  and  antiquated  enough,  to  furnish  materials  for  a  hundred 
ghost  stories,  supposing  we  should  ever  be  reduced,  to  the  lamentable 
necessity  of  inventing  any,  and  that  the  world  should  exist  long  enough 
to  exhaust  the  innumerable  veracious  legends  connected  with  old  Lon- 
don Bridge,  and  its  adjacent  neighbourhood  on  the  Surrey  side. 

It  was  in  the  yard  of  one  of  these  inns — of  no  less  celebrated  a  one 
than  the  White  Hart — that  a- man  was  b^usily  employed  in  brushing 
the  dirt  off  a  pair  of  boots  early  in  the  morning  succeeding  the  events 
narrated  in  the  last  chapter.  He  was  habited  in  a  coarse  striped  waist- 
coat, with  blacji  calico  sleeves,  and  blue  glass  buttons  :  drab  breeches 
and  leggings.  A  bright  red  handkerchief  was  wound  in  a  very  loose 
and  unstudied  style  round  his  neck,  and  an  old  white  hat  was  carelessly 
thrown  on  one  side  of  his  head.  There  were  two  rows  of  boots  before 
him,  otie  cleaned  and  the  other  dirty,  and  at  every  addition  he  made  to 
the  clean  row,  he  paused  from  his  work,  and  contemplated  its  results 
with  evident  satisfaction. 

The  yard  presented  none  of  thai  bustle  and  activity  which  are  the  usual 
characteristics  of  a  large  coach  inn.  Three  or  four  lumbering  wagons, 
each  with  a  pile  of  goods  beneath  its  ample  canopy,  about  the  height 
of  the  second-floor  window  of  an  ordinary  house,  were  stowed  away 
beneath  a  lofty  roof,  which  extended  over  one  end  of  the  yard  ;  and 
another  which  was  probably  ti)  commence  its  journey  that  morning, 
was  drawn  out  into  the  open  space.  A  double  tier  of  bed-room  gal- 
leries, with  old  clumsy  balustrades,  ran  down  two  sides  of  the  straggling 
area,  and  a  double  row  of  bells  to  correspond,  sheltered  from  the 
weather  by  a  little  sloping  roof,  hung  over  the  door  leading  to  the  bar 
and  colfee-room.  Two  or  three  gigs  and  chaise-carts  were  wheeled 
up  under  different  little  sheds  and  pent-houses  ;  and  the  occasional 
heavv  tread  of  a  cart-horse,  or  rattling  of  a  chain  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  yard,  announced  to  any  body  who  cared  about  the  matter,  that  the 
stable  lay  in  that  direction.  When  we  add  that  a  few  boys  in  smock 
frocks,  were  lying  asleep  on  heavy  packages,  woolpacks,  and  other 
articles  that  were  scattered  about  on  heaps  of  straw,  we  have  described 
as  fully  as  need  be,  the  general  appearance  of  the  yard  of  the  White 
Hart  Inn.  High  Street,  Borough,  on  the  particular  morning  in  question. 

A  loud  ringing  of  one  of  the  bells  was  followed  by  the  appearance 
of  a  smart  chaml^rmaid  in  the  upper  sleeping  gallery,  who,  after  tap- 
ping at  one  of  the  doors,  and  receiving  a  request  from  within,  called 
over  the  balustrades — 

"  Sam  !" 

•'  Hallo,"  replied  the  man  with  the  white  hat. 

"  Number  twenty-two  wants  his  boots." 

"Ask  number  twenty-two,  vether  he'll  have  'em  now  or  vait  'till  he 
gets  'em,"  was  the  reply. 

"Come,  don't  be  a  fool,  Sam,"  said  the  girl  coaxingly  ;  "the  gentle- 
man wants  his  boots  directly." 

"  Weil,  you  are  a  nice  young  'ooman  for  a  musical  party,  you  are," 
said  the  boot-cleaner.  "  Look  at  these  here  boots — eleven  pair  o' 
boots  ;  and  one  shoe  as  b'longs  to  number  six,  with  the  wooden  leg. 
The  eleven  boots  is  to  be  called  at  half-past  eight,  and  the  shoe  at  nine. 


96  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS  OP 

Who's  number  twenty-two,  that's  to  put  all  the  others  outi  No,  no  ; 
reg'lar  rotation,  as  Jack  Ketch  said,  van  he  tied  the  men  up.  Sorry  to 
keep  you  a  waitin',  sir,  but  Til  attend  to  you  directly." 

Sayinff  which,  the  man  in  the  white  hat  set  to  work  upon  a  top-boot 
with  increased  assiduity. 

There  was  another  loud  ring  ;  and  the  bustling  old  landlady  of  the 
White  Hart  made  her  appearance  in  the  opposite  gallery. 

"Sam,"'  cried  the  landlady,  "  where's  that  lazy,  idle — why  Sam — 
oh,  there  you  are  ;  why  don't  you  answer  ?" 

"  Vouldn't  be  gen-teel  to  answer,  'till  you'd  done  talking,"  replied 
Sam,  gruffly. 

*'  Here,  clean  them  shoes  for  number  seventeen  directly,  and  take 
'em  to  private  sittin'-room,  number  five,  first  floor." 

The  landlady  flung  a  pair  of  lady's  shoes  into  the  yard,  and  bustled 
away. 

"  Number  5,"  said  Sam,  as  he  picked  up  the  shoes — and  taking  a 
piece  of  chalk  from  his  pocket,  made  a  memorandum  of  their  destina- 
tion on  the  soles — "  Lady's  shoes,  and  private  sittin'-room  !  I  sup- 
pose she  didn't  come  in  the  vaggin." 

"  She  came  in  early  this  morning,"  cried  the  girl,  who  was  still 
leaning  over  the  railing  of  the  gallery,  *'  with  a  gentleman  in  a  hackney- 
coach,  and  it's  him  as  wants  his  boots — and  you'd  better  do  'em,  and 
that's  all  about  it." 

"  Vy  didn't  you  say  so  before,"  said  Sam,  with  ffreat  indignation, 
singling  out  the  boots  in  question  from  the  heap  before  him.  "  For  all 
I  knovv'd,  he  vas  one  o'  the  regular  three-pennies.  Private  room ! 
and  a  lady  too  !  If  he's  any  thing  of  a  genTm'n  he's  vorth  a  shillin' 
a  day,  let  alone  the  arrands." 

Stimulated  by  the  inspiring  reflection,  Mr.  Samuel  brushed  away 
with  such  hearty  good  will,  that  in  a  few  minutes  the  boots  and  shoes, 
with  a  polish  which  would  have  struck  envy  to  the  soul  of  the  amiable 
Mr.  Warren,  (for  they  used  Day  and  Martin  at  the  White  Hart,)  had 
arrived  at  the  door  number  five. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  man's  voice,  in  reply  to  Sam's  rap  at  the  door. 

Sam  made  his  best  bow,  and  stepped  into  the  presence  of  a  lady  and 
gentleman,  seated  at  breakfast.  Having  ofliciously  deposited  the  gen- 
tleman's boots,  right  and  left  at  his  feet,  and  Jthe  lady's  shoes  right  and 
left  at  hers,  he  backed  towards  the  door. 

"  Boots,"  said  the  gentleman. 

'*  Sir,"  said  Sam,  closing  the  door,  and  keeping  his  hand  on  the 
knob  oC  the  lock. 

"  Do  you  know — what's  a-name — Doctors'  Commons  !" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Where  is  it  r' 

"  Paul's  Church-yard,  sir ;  low  archway  on  the  carriage- side,  book- 
seller's at  one  corner,  hot-el  on  the  other,  and  two  porters  in  the 
middle  as  touts  for  licenses." 

"Touts  for  licenses?"  said  the  gentleman. 

"Touts  for  licenses!"  replied  Sam.  "Two  coves  in  vhite  aprons 
touches  their  hats  ven  you  walk  in — '  License,  sir.  license?'  Queer 
sort,  them  and  their  mas'rs,  too,  sir — Old  Bailey  Proctors — and  no 
mistake." 

"  What  do  they  dol"  inquired  the  gentleman. 

"  Do  !      You  sir  !     That  am't  the  Worst  on  it,  neither.     They  put 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  S7 

things  in  old  gen'l'm'ns  heads  as  they  never  dreamed  of.  My  father, 
sir,  vos  a  coachman.  A  vidower  he  vos,  and  fat  enough  for  any  thing 
— uncommon  fat,  to  be  sure.  His  missus  dies,  and  leaves  him  four 
hundred  pound.  DoU-n  he  goes  to  the  Commons,  to  see  the  lawyer, 
and,  draw  the  blunt — wearj-  smart-^top  boots  on — nosegay  in  his 
button-hole — broad-brimmed  tile — green  shawl — quite  the  gen'l'm'n. 
Goes  through  the  archway,  thinking  how  he  should  inwest  the 
money  ;  up  comes  the  touter,  touches  his  h«it — '  License,  sir,  license?' 
'What's  that;'  says  my  father.  'License,  sir,'  says  he.  'What 
Ucen.-;e  V  says  my  father.  '  Marriage  license,'  says  the  touter.  '  Dash 
my  vesk.it,'  says  my  father,  'I  never  thought  o'  that.'  'I  think  yout 
wants  one,  sir,'  says  the  touter.   i^iMy  father  piills  up,  and  thinks  a  bit. 

*  No,'  says  he,  '  d e,  I'm  too  old  ;  b'sides,  I'm  a  many  sizes  too 

large,'  says  he.  'Not  a  bit  on  it,  sir,'  says  the  touter.  'Think  notV 
says  my  father.  *  I'm  sure  not,'  says  he  ;  '  we  married  a  genTm'n 
twice  your  size,  last  Monday.'     '  Did  you,  though,'  says  my  father. 

*  To  be  sure,  ve  did,'  says  the  touter — '  you're  a  baby  to  him — this  vay, 
*sir — this   vay  I' — and   sure   enough   my  father  walks  arter  him  like  a 

tame  monkey  behind  a  ho?gan,  into  a  little  back  office,  vere  a  feller  sat 
among  dirty  papers  and  tin  bo.^ces,  making  believe  he  was  busy.  '  Pray 
take  a  seat   while  I  makes   out   the   affidavit,  sir,'  says    the   lawyer. 

*  Thankee,  sir,'  says  my  father,  and  down  he  sat,  and  stared  vith  all 
Ms   eyes,  and   his  mouth   vide   open,  at  the   names  on  the  boxes. — 

*  What's  your  name,  sir  !'  says  the  lawyer.  *  Tony  Weller,'  says  my 
father.  '  Parish  V  says  the  lawyer.  '  Belle  Savage,'  says  my  father, 
for  he  stopped  there  ven  he  drove  up,  and  he  know'd  nothing  about 
pari.shes,  he  didn't.  'And  what's  the  lady's  name  !'  says  the  lawyer. 
My  father  was  struck  all  of  a  heap.     ♦  Blessed  if  I  know,'  says  he. 

*  Not  know  !'  says  the  lawyer.  '  No  more  nor  you  do,'  says  my  father 
— 'can't  I  put  that  in  afterward?'  'Impossible!'  says  "the  lawyer. 
'  Werry  well.'  says  my  father,  after  he'd  thought  a  moment,  ♦  put 
down  .»Irs.  Clarke.'  '  What  Clarke ''  says  the  lawyer,  dipping  his 
pen  ip  the  ink.  *  Susan  Clarke,  .Markis  o'Granby,  Dorking,'  says  my 
father  ;  '  she'll  have  me,  if  I  ask  her,  I  dare  say  :•  I  never  said  nothing 
to  her.  but  she'll  have  me,  I  know.'  The  license  was  made  out,  and 
she  did  have  him — and  what's  more,  she's  got  him  now  ;  and  /  never 
had  any  of  the  four  hundred  pounds,  worse  luck.  Beg  your  pardon, 
sir,"  said  Sam,  when  he  had  concluded,  "  but  vhen  I  gets  on  this  here 
grievance,  I  runs  on  like  a  new  barrow  vith  the  vheel  greased." 
Having  said  w^hich,  and  having  paused  for  an  instant  to  see  whether 
he  was  wanted  for  any  thing  more,  Sam  left  the  room.     * 

"  Half-past  nine — ^just  the  tune — off  at  once  !"  said  the  gentleman, 
xvhom  we  need  hardly  introduce  as  Ah-.  Jingle. 

"  Time  for  what  !"  said  the  spinster  aunt,  coquettishly. 

"  License,  deare.st  of  angels— give  notice  at  the  church — call  you 
mine  to-morrow  ;" — said  Mjr.  Jingle,  and  he  squeezed  the  spinster 
aunt's  hand. 

"  The  license  I"  said  Rachael,  blushing. 

•'The  license,"  repeated  Mr.  Jingle — 

''  In  harry,  post-haste  for  u  license, 
In  hurry,  ding  dong  1  come  back. 

"  How  you  run  on,"  said  Rachael. 
Vol.  1.^9 


99  POSTHOMODS  PAPERS  OF 

♦'  Run  on — nothing  to  the  hours,  days,  weeks,  months,  years,  when 
•we're  united — run  on — they'll  fly  on — bolt,  mizzle — steam-engine — 
thousand-horse  power— ^nothing  to  it." 

•'  Can't — can't  we  be  married  before  to-morrow  morning  1"  inquired 
Rachael 

"  Impossible — can't  be — notice  at  the  church — leave  the  license  to- 
day— ceremony  come  ofT  to-morrow." 

"  I  am  so  terrified,  lest  my  brother  should  discover  us  !"  said  Rachael. 

"  Discover — nonsense — too   much    shaken  by   the   break   down — 

besides  extreme  caution — gave  up  the  post-chaise — walked  on — took  a 

hackney-coach — came  to  the  Borough — last  place  in  the  world  that  he'd 

look  in — ha  I   ha  ! — capital  notion  thj^f. — very. 

"  Don't  .  be  long,"  said  the  spinster,  atfectionately,  as  Mr.  Jingle 
stuck  the  pinched-up  hat  on  his  head. 

*'  Long  away  from  you  1 — Cruel  charmer,"  and  Mr.  Jingle  skipped 
playfully  up  to  the  spinster  aunt  imprinted  a  chaste  kiss  upon  her  lips, 
and  danced  out  of  the  room. 

"  Dear  man  !"  said  the  spinster,  as  the  door  closed  after  him. 
"  Rum  old  girl,"  said  Mr.  Jinule,  as  he  walked  down  the  passage. 
It  is  painful  to  reflect  upon  the  perfidy  of  our  species  ;  and  we  will 
not,  therefore,  pursue  the  thread  of  Mr.  Jingle's  meditations  as  he 
wended  his  way  to  Doctors'  Commons.  It  will  be  sufficient  for  our 
purpose  to  relate,  that  escaping  the  snares  of  the  dragons  in  white 
aprons,  who  guard  the  entrance  of  that  enchanted  region,  he  reached 
the  Vicar  General's  office  in  safety,  and  having  procured  a  highly  flat- 
tering address  on  parchment  from,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  to 
his  "  trusty  and  well-beloved  Alfred  Jingle  and  Rachael  Wardle,  greet- 
ing." he  carefully  deposited  the  mystic  document  in  his  pocket,  and  re- 
traced his  steps  in  triumph  to  the  "borough. 

He  was  yet  on  his  way  to  the  White  Hart,  when  two  plump  gentle- 
men, and  one  thin  one  entered  the  yard,  and  looked  round  in  search  of 
some  authorized  person  of  whom  they  could  make  a  few  inqviiries. — 
Mr.  Samuel  Weller  happened  to  be  at  that  moment  engaged  m  bur- 
nishing a  pair  of  painted  tops,  the  personal  property  of  a  farmer,  who 
was  refreshing  himself  with  a  slight  lunch  of  two  or  three  pounds  of 
cold  beef,  and  a  pot  or  two  of  porter,  after  the  fatigues  of  the  Borough 
market;  and  to  him  the  thin  gentleman  straightway  advanced — 
"  My  friend,"  said  the  thin  gentleman. 

*♦  You're  one  o'  the  adwice  gratis  order,"  thought  Sam,  "or  you 
wouldn't  be  so  werry  fond  o'  me  all  at  once."  But  he  only  said — 
"  Well,  sir." 

*'  My  friend,"  said  the  thin  gentleman  with  a  conciliatory  hem — ■ 
"Have  you  got  many  people  stopping  here  now  1  Pretty  busy.    Eh?" 

Sam  stole  a  look  at  the  inquirer.  He  was  a  little  high-dried  man, 
with  a  dark  squeezed-up  face  and  small  restless  black  eyes,  that  kept 
winking  and  twinkling  on  each  side  of  his  little  inquisitive  nose,  as  if 
they  were  playing  a  perpetual  game  of  peep-bo  with  that  feature.  He 
was  dressed  all  in  black,  with  boots  as  shiny  as  his  eyes,  a  low  white 
neckcloth,  and  a  clean  shirt  with  a  frill  to  it.  A  gold  watch  chain  and 
seals  depended  from  his  fob.  He  carried  his  black  kid  gloves  in  his 
hands,  not  on  them,  and  as  he  spoke  thrust  his  wrists  beneath  his  coat 
tails,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  was  in  the  habit  of  propounding  some 
regular  posers. 

"Pretty  busy,  eh  ?"  said  the  little  man. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  99 

**  Oh,  werry  well,  sir,"  replied  Sam,  "  we  shan't  be  bankrupts,  and 
we  shan't  make  our  fort'ns.     We  eats  our  boiled  mutton  without  ca- 
pers, and  don't  care  for  horse-radish  ven  ve  can  get  beef.'' 
"  Ah,""said  the  little  man,  "  you're  a  wag,  a'n't  you?' 
"My  eldest  brother  was  troubled  with  that  complaint,"  said  Sam,  "  it 
may  be  catching — I  used  to  sleep  with  him." 

"  This  is  a  curious  old  house  of  yours,"  said  the  little  man,  looking 
round  him. 

"  If  you'd  sent  word  you  was  a  coming,  we'd  ha'  had  it  repaired,'" 
replied  the  imperturbable  Sam. 

The  little  man  seemed  rather  baffled  by  these  several  repulses,  and 
a  short  consultation  took  place  between  him  and  the  two  plump  gen- 
tlemen. At  its  conclusion,  the  little  man  took  a  pinch  of  snuft"  from 
an  oblong  silver  box,  and  was  apparently  on  the  point  of  renewing  the 
conversation,  when  one  of  the  plump  gentlemen,  who,  in  addition  to  a 
benevolent  countenance,  possessed  a  pair  of  spectacles,  and  a  pair  of 
black  gaiters,  interfered — 

"  The  fact  of  the  matter  is,"  said  the  benevolent  gentleman,  "  that 
my  friend  here  (pointing  to  the  other  plump  gentleman)  will  give  you 

half  a  guinea  if  you'll  answer  one  or  two " 

"  Now,  my  dear  sir,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  "  pray  allow 
me,  my  dear  sir, — the  very  first  principle  to  be  observed  in  these  cases, 
is  this  :  If  you  place  a  matter  in  the  hands  of  a  professional  man,  you 
must  in  no  way  interfere  in  the  proirress  of  the  business  ;  you  must 
repose  implicit  confidence  in  him.  Really,  Mr.  (he  turned  to  the  other 
plump  gentleman,  and  said,) — I  forget  your  friend's  name." 

"  Pickwick,"  said  Mr.  Wardle,  for  it  was  no  other  than  that  jolly 
personage. 

"Ah,  Pickwick — really  Mr.  Pickwick,  my  dear  sir,  excuse  me — I 
shall  be  happy  to  receive  any  private  suggestions  of  yours,  as  amicus 
curia,  but  you  must  see  the  impropriety  of  your  interfering  with  my 
conduct  in  this  case,  with  such  an  ad  captandum  argument  as  the  offer 
of  half  a  guinea.  Really,  my  dear  sir,  really  ;"  and  the  little  man  took 
an  argumentative  pinch  of  snuflT,  and  looked  very  profound. 

•'  My  only  wish,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  was  to  bring  this  very 
unpleasant  matter  to  as  speedy  a  close  as  possible." 
"  Quite  right — quite  right,"  said  the  little  man. 
"  With  which  view,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  "I made  Use  of  the 
argument  which  my  experience  of  men  has  taught  me  is  the  most  likely 
to  succeed  in  any  case." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  the  little  man,  very  good,  very  good,  indeed  ;  but  you 
should  have  suggested  it  to  me.  My  dear  sir,  I'm  quite  certain  you 
cannot  be  ignorant  of  the  extent  of  confidence  which  must  be  placed  in 
professional  men.  If  any  authority  can  be  necessary  on  such  a  point, 
my  dear  sir,  let  me  refer  you  to  the  well-known  case  in  Barnwell 

and  " 

"  Never  mind  George  Barnwell,"  interrupted  Sam,  who  had  re- 
mained a  wondering  listener  during  this  short  colloquy  ;  "every  body 
knows  vhat  sort  of  a  case  his  vas,  tho'  it's  alwaysy^  been  my  opinion, 
mind  you,  that  the  young  'ooman  deserved  scragging  a  precious  sight 
more  than  he  did.  Hows'evcr,  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  Yoa 
want  me  to  except  of  half  a  guinea.  Werry  well,  I'm  agreeable  :  I 
can't  say  no  fairer  than  that,  can  I,  sir  ?  (Mr.  Pickwick  smiled.)  Then 


lOD  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

the  next  question  is,  what  the  d — 1  do  you  want  witji  me,  as  the  man 
said  when  he  seed  the  o:host !" 

"  We  want  to  know" said  Mr.  Wardle. 

*'  Now,  my  dear  sir — my  dear  sir,"  interposed  the  busy  httle  man. 
Mr.   VN  ardle  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  was  silent. 
"  We  want  to  know,"  said  the  little  man,  solemnly ;  "  and  we  ask 
the  question  of  you  in  order  that  we  may  not  awaken  apprehensions 
inside — wc  want  to  know  who  you've  got  in  this  house  at  present." 

"  Who  there  is  in  the  house  !"'  said  Sam,  in  whose  mind  the  inmates 
were  always  represented  by  that  particular  article  of  their  costume, 
which  came  under  his  immediate  superintendence.  "  There's  a  vooden 
leg  In  number  six.  there's  a  pair  of  Hessians  in  thirteen,  there's  two 
pair  of  halves  in  the  commercial,  there's  these  here  painted  tops  in  the 
snuguery  inside  the  bar,  and  five  more  tops  in  the  cofl'ee-room." 
"Nothing  more,"  said  the  little  man. 

"  Stop  a  bit,"  replied  Sam,  suddenly  recollecting  himself.  "  Yes  ; 
there's  a  pair  of  Vellingtons,  a  good  deal  vom,  and  a  pair  o'  lady's 
shoes,  in  number  five." 

"  What  sort  of  shoes,"  hastily  inquired  Wardle,  who^  together  with 
Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  lost  in  bewilderment  at  the  singular  catalogue 
■   of  visiters.  ' 

"  Country  make,"  replied  Sam. 
"  Any  maker's  name  ]" 
'*  Brown." 
"Whereof?" 
"  Muggleton." 

"  It  IS  them,"  exclaimed  Wardle.  "  By  heavens,  we've  found  them.'" 
''  Hush  I"  said  Sam.     "  The  Vellingtons  has  gone  to  Doctors"  Com- 
znons  " 

"No  I''  said  the  little  man. 
"Yes,  for  a  license." 

"We're  in  time,"  exclaimed  W^ardle.  "Show  us  the  room  ;  not  a 
moment  is  to  be  lost." 

"  Pray,  my  dear  sir — pray."  said  the  little  man  ;  "  caution,  caution.** 
He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  red  silk  purse,  and  looked  very  hard  at  Sam, 
as  he  drew  out  a  sovereign. 
Sam  grinned  expressively. 

"  Show  us  into  the  room  at  once,  without  announcing  us,"  said  the 
little  man,  "and  it's  yours." 

Sam  threw  the  painted  tops  into  a  corner,  and  led  the  way  through  a 
dark  passage,  and  up  a  wide  staircase.  He  paused  at  tiie  end  of  a 
•econd  passage,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"Here  it  is,"  whispered  the  attorney,  as  he  deposited  the  money  in 
the  hand  of  their  guide. 

The  man   stepped  forward  for  a  few  paces,  followed  by  the  two 
friends  and  their  legal  adviser.     He  stopped  at  a  door. 
"Is  this  the  room?"  murmured  the  little  gentleman. 
Sam  nodded  assent. 

Old  Wardle  opened  the  door ;  and  the  whole  three  walked  into  the 
room  just  as  .Mr.  Jingle,  who  had  that  moment  returned,  had  produced 
the  license  to  the  .«;pinstcr  aunt. 

The  spinster  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and  throwing  herself  in  a  chair, 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands.     Mr.  Jingle  crumpled  up  the  license, 


THE  PICCWICK  CLCB.  lOl 

and  thrust  it  into  his  coat-pocket.  The  unwelcome  visiters  advanced 
into  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"  You — you  are  a  nice  rascal,  ar'n't  you?"  exclaimed  Wardle,  breath- 
less with  passion. 

"  My  dear  sir,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  laying  his  hat  on  the 
table.  "  Pray,  consider — pray.  Scandalum  nuigmcUum,  defamation  of 
character,  action  for  damages.     Calm  yourself,  my  dear  sir,  pray — " 

*'  How  dare  you  drag  ray  sister  from  my  house  V  said  the  old  man. 

-"Ay — ay — very  good,"  said  the  little  gentleman,  ''you  may  ask 
that.     How  dare  you,  sirl — eh,  sir?" 

"  Who  the  d — 1  are  you  •"  inqufred  Mr.  Jingle,  in  so  fierce  a  tone, 
that  the  little  gentleman  involuntarily  fell  back  a  step  or  two. 

*'  Who  is  he,  you  scoundrel,"  interposed  Wardle.  "  He's  my  lawyer, 
Mr.  Perker,  of  Gray's  Inn.     Perker  I'll  have  this  fellow  prosecuted — 

indicted — I'll — I'U-^ e,  I'll  ruin  him.     And  you,"'  continued  Mr. 

Wardle,  turning  abruptly  round  to  his  sister,  "you  Rachael,  at  a  time 
of  life  when  you  ought  to  know  better,  what  do  you  mean  by  running 
away  with  a  vagabond,  disgracing  your  family,  and  making  yourself 
miserable.  Get  on  your  bonnet,  and  come  back.  Call  a  hackney- 
coach  there  directly,  and  bring  this  lady's  bill,  d'ye  hear — d'ye  hear  ]" 

*'  Cert'nly,  sir,"'  replied  Sara,  who  had  answered  Wardle's  violent 
ringing  of  the  bell  with  a  degree  of  celerity,  which  must  have  appeared 
marvellous  to  any  body  who  didn't  know  that  his  eye  had  been  appUed 
to  the  outside  of  the  key-hole  during  the  whole  interview. 

"Get  on  your  bonnet,'"  repeated  Wardle. 

*'Do  nothing  of  the  kind.''  said  Jingle.  "  Leave  the  room,  sir — no 
business  here — lady's  free  to  act  as  she  pleases — more  than  one-and- 
twenty."' 

"  :NIore  than  one-and-twenty  !"  ejacuated  Wardle,  contemptuously. 
"More  than  one-and-forty  I"' 

"  I  a'n't,"  said  the  the  spinster  aunt,  her  indignation  getting  the 
better  of  her  determination  to  faint. 

"  You  are,"'  replied  Wardle,  "you're  fifty  if  you're  an  hour." 

Here  the  spinster  aunt  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and  became  senseless. 

"A  glass  of  water,"  said  the  humane  Mr.  Pickwick,  summoning  the 
landlady. 

♦'  A  glass  of  water  !"  said  the  passionate  Wardle.  "  Bring  a  bucket 
and  throw  it  all  over  her  :  it'll  do  her  good,  and  she  richly  deserves  it." 

"Ugh,  you  brute  I"  ejaculated  the  kind  hearted  landlady.  "Poor 
dear."  And  with  sundry  ejaculations,  of  "  Come  naw  there's  a  dear 
— drirrk  .a  little  of  this — it'll  do  you  good — don't  give  way  so — there's 
a  love,"  <S:c.  &;c.,  the  landlady,  assisted  by  a  chambermaid,  proceeded 
to  vinegar  the  forehead,  beat  the  hands,  tittillate  the  nose,  and  unlace 
the  stays  of  the  spinster  aunt,  and  to  administer  such  other  restoratives 
as  are  usually  applied  by  compassionate  females  to  ladies  who  are 
endeavouring  to  ferment  themselves  into  hysterics. 

"  Coach  is  ready,  sir,'  said  Sam,  appearing  at  the  door. 

♦'  Come  along,"  cried  Wardle.'    "  I'll  carry  her  down  stairs." 

At  this  proposition  the  hysterics  came  on  with  redoubled  violence. 

The  landlady  was  about  to  enter  a  very  violent  protest  against  this 
proceediuL^,  and  had  already  given  vent  to  an  indignant  inquiry  whether 
Mr.  Wardle  considered  himself  a  lord  of  the  creation,  when  Mr.  Jingle 
interposed — 

"Boots,""  said  he,  "get  me  an  officer."' 
9* 


102  POSTHDMOUS  PAPERS  OV 

"  Stay,  stay,"  said  little  Mr.  Porker.     Consider  sir,  consider.'* 
"  ril  not  consider,"'  replied  Jin<^le,  "  she's  her  own  mistress — see 
who  dares  to  take  her  away — unless  she  wishes  it." 

"  I  ico7i'i  be  taken  away,"  murmured  the  spinster  aunt.     "  I  don't 
wish  it."     (Here  there  was  a  frightful  relapse.) 

'♦  My  dear  sir,"  saul  the  little  man,  in  a  low  tone,  taking  Mr.  Wardle 
and  Mr.  Pickwick  apart :  "  my  dear  sir.  we're  in  a  very  awkward  situa- 
tion. Its  a  distressing  case — very  ;  I  never  knew  one  more  so ;  but 
really,  my  dear  sir,  really  we  have  no  power  to  control  this  lady's 
actions.  I  warned  you  before  we  came,  my  dear  sir,  that  there  was 
nothing  to  look  to  but  a  compromi'se." 
There  was  a  short  pause. 

"  What  kind  of  compromise  would  you  recommend  T'  ii.quired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Why,  my  dear  sir,  our  friend's  in  an  unpleasant  position — very 
much  so.     We  must  be  content  to  sulfer  some  pecuniary  loss." 

♦'  I'll  sulTcr  any,  rather  than  submit  to  this  disgrace,  and  let  her,  fool 
as  she  is,  be  made  miserable  for  life,"  said  Wardle. 

*'  I  rather  think  it  can  be  done,"  soid  t-lie  bustling  little  man.  "Mr. 
Jingle,  you  will  step  with  us  into  the  next  room  for  a  moment  T' 

Mr.  jingle  assented,  and  the  quartette  walked  into  an  empty  apart- 
ment. 

"  Now  sir,"  said  the  little  ma»,  as  he  carefully  closed  the  door,  "  is 
there  no  way  of  accammodating  this  matter — step  this  way,  sir,  for  a 
moment — into  this  window,  sir,  where  we  can  be  alone — there;  sir, 
there,  pray  sit  down,  sir.  Now,  my  dear  sir,  between  you  and  I,  we 
know  very  well,  my  dear  sir,  that  you  have  run  off  wi;.'  this  lady  for 
the  sake  of  her  money.  Don't  frown,  sir,  don't  frown  ;  1  say,  between 
you  and  I,  icc  know  it.  We  are  both  men  of  the  world,  and  we  know 
very  well  that  our  friends  here  are  not — ehV 

Mr.  Jingle's  face  gradually  relaxed  ;  and  something  distantly  re» 
semblino'  a  wink  quivered  for  an  instant  in  his  left  eye. 

"  Ver)'  good,  very  good,"  said  the  liitle  man,  observing  tke  impres- 
sion he  had  made.  *'  Now  the  fact  is,  that  beyond  a  few  hundreds,  tlie 
lady  has  little  or  nothing  till  the  death  of  her  mother — line  old  lady^ 
my  dear  sir." 

*'  01 .',"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  briefly  but  emphatically. 
"^  "  Why,  yes,"  said  the  attorney,  with  a  slight  cough.  "  You  are 
right ;  my  dear  sir,  she  is  ral/ier  old.  She  comes  of  an  old  family 
though,  my  dear  sir  ;  old  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  The  founder  of 
that  family  came  into  Kent,  when  Julius  Caesar  invaded  Britain  ; — only 
one  member  of  it,  since,  who  hasn't  lived  to  eighty-five,  and  he  was 
beheaded  by  one  of  the  Henrys.  The  old  lady  is  not  seventy-three  now, 
my  dear  sir."     The  little  man  paused,  and  took  a  pinch  of  snuff. 

"  Well,''  cried  iMr.  Jingle. 
•     "Well,  my  dear  sir — you  don't  take  snulT? — ah  !  so  much  the  better 
— expensive  habit — well,  my  dear  sir,  you're  a  fine  young  man,  man  ol 
the  vforld — able  to  push  your  fortune,  if  you  had  capital,  eh!'' 
"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Jingle  again. 
**  Do  you  comprehend  me  ?" 
*«  Not  quite." 

*'  Don't  you  think — now,  my  dear  sir,  I  put  it  to  you,  don't  yon  think 
• — that  tifiy  pounds,  and  liberty,  would  be  better  than  Miss  Wardle  and 
expectation  T' 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  103 

"Won't  do — not  half  enough?"  said  Mr.  Jingle,  rising. 

"  Naj',  nay,  my  dear  sir,"  remonstrated  the  little  attorney,  seizing 
him  by  the  button.  "  •'  Gootl  round  sum — a  man  like  you  could  treble 
it  in  no  time — great  deal  to  be  done  with  fifty  pounds,  my  dear  sir." 

"More  to  be  done  with  a  hundred  and  fifty,"  replied  Mr.  Jingle,  coolly. 

'*  Well,  my  dear  sir,  we  won't  waste  lime  in  splitting  straws," 
resumed  the  little  man,  *'  say — say — seventy." 

"  Won't  do,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

"  Don't  go  away,  my  dear  sir — pray  don't  hurry,"'  said  the  little  man. 
•'  Eighty  ;  come,  I'll  write  you  a  check  at  once." 

"  Won't  do,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

"  Well,  my  dear  sir,  well,"  said  the  little  man.  still  detaining  him  *, 
"just  tell  me  what  will  do." 

''Expensive  affair,"  said  Mr.  Jingle.  "Money  out  of  pocket — • 
posting,  nine  pounds  ;  license,  three — that's  twelve — compensation,  a 
hundred — hundred  and  twelve — breach  of  honour — and  loss  of  tlu- 
lady—" 

"Yes,  my  dear  sir,  yes,"  said  the  little  man  with  a  knowing  look, 
"  never  mind  the  last  two  items.  That's  a  hundred  and  twelve — say 
a  hundred — come." 

"And  twenty,"  said  Mr.  Jingle. 

"  Come,  come,  III  write  you  a  check,'"  said  the  little  man  ;  and  down 
he  sat  at  the  table  for  that  purpose. 

"  I'll  make  it  payable  the  day  after  to-morrow,"  said  the  little  man, 
with  a  look  towards  Mr.  Wardle ;  "  and  we  can  get  the  lady  away, 
meanwhile."' 

Mr.  Wardle  sullenly  nodded  assent. 

"  A  hundred,'"  said  the  little  tn.-in. 

"And  twenty,''  said  .Mr.  Jingle. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  remonstrated  the  little  man. 

*•  Give  it  him,"  interposed  Mr.  Wardle,  "  and  let  him  r'^" 

The  check  was  written  by  the  little  gentleman  tmd  pocketed  by  Mr. 
Jingle. 

♦'  IVow  leave  this  house  instantly  !''  said  Wardle,  starting  up. 

"  My  dear  sir,"'  urged  the  little  man. 

"And  mind,'*  said  Mr  Wardle,  "  that  nothing  should  have  induced 
me  to  make  this  compromise — not  even  a  regard  for  mv  family — if  I 
had  not  known  that  the  moment  you  got  any  money  in  that  p  -cket  of 
yours,  you'd  go  to  the  devil  faster,  if  possible,  thaiir;you  would  without 
it.—" 

"  My  dear  sir,"  urged  the  little  man  again. 

"  Be  quiet,  Perker,"  resumed  Wardle.     '*  Leave  the  room,  sir." 

"  Off  directly,"  said  the  unabashed  Jingle.    "  Bye-bye — Pickwick." 

If  any  dispassionate  spectator  could  have  beheld  the  countenance  o." 
the  illustrious  man,  whose  name  forms  the  leading  feature  of  the  title 
of  this  work,  during  the  latter  part  of  this  conversation,  he  would  have 
been  almost  induced  to  wonder  that  the  indignant  fire  which  flaslied 
from  his  eyes  did  not  melt  the  glasses  of  his  spectacles — so  majestic 
was  his  wrath.  His  nostrils  dilated,,  and  his  fists  clenched  involuntii- 
rily,  as  he  heard  himself  addressed  by  the  villain.  But  he  restrained 
himself  HL^iin — he  did  n:}t  pulverise  him. 

"  Here,"  continued  the  hardened  traitor,  tossing  the  licon.se  at  Mr. 
Pickwick's  feet ;  •'  get  the  nzmc  altered — take  home  the  l;idy — do  fur 
Tuppy." 


104  posTHurroos  papers  of 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  a  philosopher,  but  philosophers  are  only  men  in 
armour,  after  all.  The  shaft  had  reached  him,  penetrated  through  his 
philosophical  harness,  to  his  very  heart.  In  the  frenzy  of  his  rage  he 
hurled  the  inkstand  madly  forward,  and  followed  it  up  himself  But 
Mr  Jingle  had  disappeared,  and  he  found  himself  caught  in  the  arms 
of  Sam. 

'«  Hallo,"  said  that  eccentric  functionary,  "  furniture's  cheap  vere  you 
come  from.  •  Self-acting  ink,  that  'ere  ;  it's  wrote  your  mark  upon  the 
wall,  old  gen'lm'n.  Hold  still,  sir;  wot's  the  use  o'  runnin'  arter  a  man 
as  has  made  his  lucky,  and  got  to  t'other  end  of  the  borough  by  this 
time." 

Mr.  Pickwick's  mind,  like  those  of  all  truly  great  men,  was  open  to 
conviction.  He  was  a  quick  and  powerful  reasoner  ;  and  a  moment's 
reflection  sufficed  to  remind  him  of  the  impotcncy  of  his  rage.  It 
subsided  as  quickly  as  it  had  been  roused.  He  panted  for  breath,  and 
looked  benignantly  round  upon  his  friends. 

Shall  wc  tell  the  lamentations  that  ensued  when  Miss  Wardlc  found 
herself  deserted  by  the  faithless  Jingle  !  Shall  we  extract  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's masterly  description  of  that  heartrending  wcene  1  His  note- 
book, blotted  with  the  tears  of  sympathizing  humanity,  lies  open  before 
us  ;  one  word,  and  it  is  in  the  printer's  hands.  But  no,  we  will  be  re- 
solute !  We  will  not  wring  the  public  bosom  with  the  delineation  of 
such  suffering. 

Slowly  and  sadly  did  the  two  friends  and  the  deserted  lady  return 
the  next  day  in  the  Muggleton  heavy  coach.  Dimly  and  darkly  had 
the  sombre  shadows  of  a  summer's  night  fallen  upon  all  around,  when 
they  aeain  reached  Dingley  Dell,  and  stood  within  the  entrance  of 
Manor  Farm. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

INVOLVING  ANOTHER  JOURNEY,  AND  AN  ANTIQUARIAN  DISCOVERY,  RECORD- 
ING M*R.  PICKWICk's  DETERMINATION  TO  DE  PRESENT  AT  AN  ELECTION  ; 
AND  CONTAINING  A  MANUSCRIPT  OF  THE  OLD  CLEKGVMAN's. 

A  NicHT  of  quiet  and  repose  in  the  profound  silence  of  Dingley 
Dell,  and  an  hour's  breathing  of  its  fresh  and  fragrant  air  on  the 
ensuing  morning,  completely  recovered  Mr.  Pickwick  from  the  effects 
of  his  late  fatigue  of  body  and  anxiety  of  mind.  That  illustrious  man 
had  been  separated  from  his  friends  and  followers  for  two  whole  days ; 
and  it  was  with  a  degree  of  pleasure  and  delight,  which  no  common 
imarjination  can  adequately  conceive,  that  he  stepped  forward  to  greet 
Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  he  encountered  those  gentlemen  on 
his  return  from  his  early  walk.  The  pleasure  was  mutual ;  for  who 
could  ever  gaze  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  beaming  face  without  experiencing 
the  sensation  1  But  still  a  cloud  seemed  to  hang  over  his  companions 
which  that  great  man  could  not  but  be  scnsihie  of,  and  was  wholly  at 
a  loss  to  account  for.  There  was  a  mysterious  air  about  them  both,  as 
unusual  as  it  was  alarming. 

"And  how,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  he  had  grasped  his  followers 


THE  riCKWlCK  CLUB.  105 

by  the  hand,  and  exchanged  warm  salutations  of  welcome  ;  "  how  ia 
Tupmari  !"  . 

Mr.  Winkle,  to  whom  the  question  was  more  peculiarly  addressed, 
made  no  reply.  He  turned  away  hia  head,  and  appeared  absorbed  in 
melancholy  reflection.         * 

"  Snodgrass,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  earnestly,  "  liow  iu  ourTricnd — he 
is  not  ill !" 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Snodgrass  ;  and  a  tear  trembled  on  his  sentimental 
eyelid,  like  a  rain-drop  on  a  window-frame.     "  No  :  he  is  not  ill," 

Mr.  Pickwick  btopped,  and  gazed  on  each  of  his  friends  in  turn. 

♦'  Winkle — Snodgrass,"  said  .Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "what  does  this  mean! 
Where  is  our  friend  !  What  has  happened  ]  »Speak — I  conjure,  I 
entreat — nay,  I  comuaand  you,  speak." 

There  was  a  solemnity — a  dignity — in  Mr.  Pickwick's  manner,  not 
to  be  withstood. 

"  He  is  gone,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrasd. 

*'  Gone  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  gone  !" 

"  Gone,"  repeated  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"Where?"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick. 

♦'  We  can  only  guess,  from  that  communication,"  replied  Mr.  Snod- 
grass, taking  a  letter  from  his  pocket,  and  placing  K  in  his  friend's  liand. 
"Yesterday  morning,  when  a  letter  was  received  from  Mr.  Wardle, 
statmg  that  you  would  be  home  with  his  yi.ster  at  night,  the  melancholy 
which  had  hung  over  our  friend  during  the  whole  of  the  previous  day, 
was  observed  to  increase.  He  shortly  afte/ward  disappeared  :  he  was 
rnis.^ing  during  the  whole  day,  and  in  th^  evening  this  letter  was 
brought  by  the  hostler  from  the  Cjrown,  at  Muggleton.  It  had  been 
left  in  his  charge  in  the  morning,  with  a  strict  injunction  that  it  should 
not  be  delivered  until  night." 

Mr.  Pickwick  opened  the  epi.stle.  It  was  in  hie  friend's  hand- 
writing, and  these  were  its  .contents  : 

"  My  dear  Pickwick, 

"  You,  my  dear  friend,  arc  placed  far  beyond  the  reach  of  many 
mortal  frailties  and  weaknesses  which  ordinary  people  carmot  over- 
'•ornp.  You  do  not  know  what  it  is,  at  one  blow,  to  be  deserted  by  a 
lovely  and  fascinating  creature,  and  to  fall  a  victim  to  the  artifices  of  a 
villain,  who  hid  the  grin  of  cunning  heneath  the  mask  of  friendship.  I 
hope  you  never  may. 

"Any  letter,  addressed  to  me  .-.t  the  Leather  Bottle,  Cobham,  Kent, 
will  be  forwarded — supposing  I  still  e.xist.  I  hristen  from  the  sight  of 
that  world  which  has  become  odious  to  me.  Should  I  hasten  fr^m  it 
altogether,  pity — forgive  rne.  Life,  my  dear  Pickwick,  has  become 
insu[>poftab!e  to  me.  The  spirit  which  burns  within  u.s  is  a  porter's 
knot,  on  which  to  rest  the  heavy  load  of  world^'  cares  and  troubles  ; 
rind  when  that  spirit  fails  us,  the  birrden  is  too  heavy  to  be  home 
We  sink  beneath  it.     You  may  tell  Rachael, — Ah,  that  name  ! — 

"Tk.vcv  Tukma-v." 

"  We  must  leave  this  place  directly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  re- 
folded the  note.  "  It  would  not  have  been  decent  for  us  to  remain 
}»ere,  under  any  circumstances,  after  what  has  haj)pened  ;  and,  now 
we  are  bound  to  follow  in  search  of  our  friend  "  Ami  sn  s.iving,  ho 
led  the  v  ay  to  the  hou.se. 


106  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

His  intentions  were  rapidly  communicated.  The  entreaties  to  re- 
main vvere  poissingf,  but  Mr.  Pickwick  was  inflexibJe.  Business,  he 
said,  required  his  immediate  attendance. 

The  old  clergyman  was  present. 

"You  are  not  really  going  ?"  said  he,  taking  Mr.  Pickwick  aside. 

Mr.  Pickwick  reiterated  his  former  determination. 

"  Then  here,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  ''  is  a  little  manuscript, 
which  I  had  hoped  to  have  the  pleasure  of  reading  to  you  myself.  I 
found  it  on  the  death  of  a  friend  of  mine — a  medical  man,  engaged  in 
our  County  Lunatic  Asylum — among  a  variety  of  papers,  which  I  had 
the  option  of  destroying  or  preserving,  as  I  thought  proper.  I  can 
hardly  believe  that  the  manuscript  is  genuine,  though  it  certainly  is 
not  in  my  friend's  hand.  However,  whether  it  be  the  genuine  produc- 
tion of  a  maniac,  or  founded  upon  the  ravings  of  some  unhappy  being, 
which  I  think  more  probable,  read  it,  and  judge  for  yourself" 

Mr.  Pickwick  received  the  manuscript,  and  parted  from  the  benevo- 
lent old  gentleman  with  many  expressions  of  good  will  and  esteem. 

It  was  a  more  difficult  task  to  take  leave  of  the  inmates  of  Manor 
Farm,  from  whom  they  had  received  so  much  hospitality  and  kindness. 
Mr.  Pickwick  kissed  the  young  ladies — we  were  going  to  say,  as  if 
they  were  his  own  daughters,  only  as  he  might  possibly  have  infused 
a  little  more  warmth  into  the  salutation,  the  comparison  would  not  be 
quite  appropriate — hugged  the  old  lady  with  filial  cordiality ;  and 
patted  the  rosy  cheeks  of  the  female  servants  in  a  most  patriarchal 
manner,  as  he  slipped  into  the  hand  of  each  some  more  substantial 
expressions  of  his  approval.  The  exchange  of  cordialities  with  their 
fine  old  host  and  Mr.  Trundle,  was-  even  more  hearty  and  prolonged  ; 
and  it  was  not  until  Mr.  Snodgrass  had  been  several  times  called  for, 
and  at  last  emerged  from  a  dark  passage  followed  soon  after  by  Emily, 
(whose  bright  eyes  looked  unusually  dim)  that  the  three  friends  were 
enabled  to  tear  themselves  from  their  friendly  entertainers.  Many  a 
backward  look  they  gave  at  the  Farm,  as  they  walked  slowly  away ; 
and  many  a  kiss  did  Mr.  Snodgrass  waft  in  the  air,  in  acknowledgment 
of  something  very  like  a  lady's  handkerchief,  which  was  waved  from 
one  of  the  upper  windows,  until  a  turn  of  the  lane  hid  the  old  house 
from  their  sight. 

At  Muggleton  they  procured  a  conveyance  to  Rochester.  By  the 
time  they  reached  the  last-named  place,  the  violence  of  their  grief  had 
sufficiently  abated  to  ^dmit  of  their  making  a  very  excellent  early  din- 
ner ;  and  having  procured  the  necessary  information  relative  to  the 
road,  the  three  friends  set  forward  again  in  the  afternoon  to  walk  to 
Cobham. 

A  delightful  walk  it  was  :  for  it  was  a  pleasant  afternoon  in  June, 
and  their  way  lay  through  a  deep  and  shady  wood,  cooled  by  the  light 
wind  which  gently  rufllcd  the  thick  foliage,  and  enlivened  by  the  songs 
of  the  birds  that  perched  upon  the  boughs.  The  ivy  and  the  moss 
crept  in  thick  clusters  over  the  old  trees,  and  the  soft  green  turf  over- 
spread the  ground  like  a  silken  mat.  They  emerged  upon  an  open 
park,  with  an  ancient  hall,  displaying  the  quaint  and  picturesque  archi- 
tecture of  Elizabeth's  time.  Long  vistas  of  stately  oaks  and  elm-trees 
appeared  on  every  side  ;  laro-e  herds  of  deer  were  cropping  the  fresh 
grass  ;  and  occasionally  a  startled  hare  scoured  along  the  ground,  with 
the  speed  of  the  shadows  thrown  by  the  light  clouds  which  sweep 
across  a  sunny  landscape  like  a  passing  breath  of  summer. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


107 


•'  If  this."  said  "Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  about  him  ;  "  if  this  were  the 
place  to  which  all  who  are  troubled  with  our  friend's  complaint  came, 
I  fancy  their  old  attachment  to  this  world  would  very  soon  return." 
"  I  think  so,  too,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"And,  really,"  added  M;.  Pickwick,  after  half-an-hour's  walking 
had  brought  them  to  the  village,  "really,  for  a  misanthrope's  choice, 
this  is  one  of  the  prettiest  and  most  desirable  places  of  residence  I  ever 
met  with." 

In- this  opinion,  also,  both  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  expressed 
their  concurrence  ;  and  having  been  directed  to  the  Leather  Bottle,  a 
clean  and  commodious  village  ale-house,  the  three  travellers  entered. 
and  at  once  inquired  for  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Tupman. 
"  Show  the  gentlemen  into  the  parlour,  Tom,"'  said  the  landlady. 
A  stout  country  lad  opened  a  door  at  the  end  of  the  passage,  and  the 
thre.e  friends  entered  a  long,  low-roufed  room,  furnished  with  a  large 
number  of  high-^iacked,  leather-cushioned  chairs,  of  fantastic  shapes, 
and  embellished  with  a  great  variety  of  old  portraits  and  roughly  co- 
loured prints  of  some  antiquity.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  room  was  a 
table,  with  a  white  cloth  upon  it,  well  covered  with  a  roast  fowl,  bacon, 
ale,  and  ct  ccteras  ;  and  at  the  table  sat  Mr.  Tupman,  looking  as  un- 
like a  man  who  had  taken  his  leave  of  the  world  as  possible. 

On  the  entrance  of  his  friends,  that  gentleman  laid  down  his  knife  and 
fork,  and  with  a  mournful  air  advanced  to  meet  them. 

'•  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  here,"'  he  said,  as  he  grasped  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's hand.     "  It's  very  kind." 

'"Ah  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  sitting  down,  and  wiping  from  his  fore- 
head the  perspiration  which  the  walk  had  engendered.  "  Finish  your 
dinner,  and  walk  out  wit%  me.     1  wish  to  speak  to  you  alone." 

Mr  Tupman  did  as  he  was  desired  ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick,  having  re- 
freshed himself  with  a  copious  draught  of  ale,  waited  his  friend's  lei- 
sure. The  dinner  was  quickly  despatched,  and  they  walked  out  together. 
For  half  an  hour  their  forms  might  have  been  seen  pacing  the  church- 
yard to  and  fro,  while  Mr.  Pickwick  was  engaged  in  combating  his  com- 
panion's resolution.  Any  repetition  of  his  arguments  would  be  useless  ; 
for  what  language  could  convey  to  them  that  energy  and  force  which 
their  great  originator's  manner  communicated  '  Whether  Mr.  Tup- 
man was  already  tired  of  retirement,  or  whether  he  was  wholly  unable 
to  resist  the  eloquent  appeal  which  was  made  to  him,  matters  not ;  he 
did  not  resist  it  at  last. 

"It  mattered  little  to  him,"  he  said,"  whither  he  dragged  out  the 
miserable  remainder  of  his  days  ;  and  since  his  friend  laid  so  much 
stress  upon  his  humble  companionship,  he  was  willing  to  share  his  ad- 
ventures." 

Mr.  Pickwick  smiled  ;  they  shook  hands  ;  and  walked  back  to  rejoin 
their  companions. 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Mr.  Pickwick  made  that  immortal  disco- 
very, which  has  been  the  pride  and  boast  of  his  friends,  and  tho  envy 
of  every  antiquarian  in  this  or  any  other  country.  They  had  passed 
the  door  of  their  inn,  and  walked  a  little  way  down  the  village,  before 
they  recollected  the  precise  spot  in  which  it  stood.  As  they  turned 
back,  Mr.  Pickwick's  eye  fell  upon  a  small  broken  stone,  partially  buried 
in  the  ground,  in  front  of  a  cottage  door.  He  paused. 
"This  is  very  strange,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"What  is  strange!"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman,  staring  eagerly  at  every 


108  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

object  near  him    but   the   right  one.     •'  GoJ  bless   me,  what   is   the 
ruatier!"' 

This  last  was  an  ejaculation  of  irrepressible  astonishment,  occasioned 
by  seeing  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  his  enthusiasm  for  discovery,  rail  oYi  Ifis 
knees  before  the  little  stone,  and  commence  wiping  the  dust  off  it  with 
bis  pocket-handkerchief. 

"  There  is  an  inscription  here,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
4     '•  Is  it  {jossible?"  said  Mr.  Tupnian. 

"  I  can  discern,"  continued  Mr  Pickwicl;,  rubbing  away  with  all  his 
mi-iht,  and  gazing  intently  through  his  ;?pectacles  ;  "I  can  discern  a 
cross,  and  a  B,  and  then  a  T.'  This  is  important,"  continued  Mr. 
Pickwick,  starting  up.  " 'i'his  is  some  very  old  inscription — existing, 
perhaps,  long  before  the  ancient  alms-houses  in  this  place.  It  must  not 
be  lost." 

He  tapped  at  the  cottage-door.     A  labouring  man  opened  it. 
"Do  you  know  how  this  stone  came  here,  my  friend!"  inquired  tha 
benevolent  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  No  I  doant  sir,"  replied  the  man,  civilly.  "  It  was  here  long  afore  I 
war  bom,  or  any  on  us." 

Mr.  Pickwick  glanced  triumphantly  at  his  companion. 
"  Vou — you — are  not  particularly  attached  to  it,  I  dare  say,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  trembling  with  an.xiety.     "  You  wouldn't    mind  selling  it 
now  V 

"Ah  !  but  who'd  buy  it  V  inquired  the  man,  with  an  expression  of 
face  he  probably  meant  to  be  very  cunning. 

*'  ril  give  you  ten  shillings  for  it  at  once,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,"  if  you 
vould  take  it  up  for  me." 

The  astonishment  of  the  village  may  be  Asily  imagined,  when  (the 
little  stone  having  been  raised  with  one  wrench  of  a  spade,)  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, by  dint  of  great  personal  exertion,  bore  it  with  his  own  hands  to 
the  inn,  and  after  having  carefully  washed  it,  deposited  it  on  the  table. 
The  exultation  and  joy  of  the  Pickwickians  knew  no  bounds,  when 
their  patience  and  assiduity,  their  washing  and  scraping,  were  crowned 
with  success.  The  stone  was  uneven  and  broken,  and  the  letters  were 
straggling  and  irregular,  but  the  following  fragment  of  an  inscription 
was  clearly  to  be  deciphered  : 

-!- 
B         I        L        S         T 
U        M 
P         S         H        I 

S.        M. 
ARK 

Mr.  Pickwick's  eyes  sparkled  with  deligfht  as  he  sat  and  gloated  over 
the  treasure  he  had  discovered.  He  had  attained  one  of  the  greatest 
objects  of  his  ambition.  In  a  country  known  to  abound  in  remains  of 
the  early  ages  ;  in  a  village  in  which  there  still  existed  some  memorials 
of  the  olden  time,  he — he,  the  chairman  of  the  Pickwick  Club — had 
di.scovered  a  strantje  and  fcurious  inscription  of  unquestionable  antiquity, 
which  had  wholly  escaped  the  observation  of  many  learned  men  who  had 
preceded  him.     He  could  hardly  trust  the  evidence  ofhis  senses, 

"  This — this,"  said  he,  "  determines  me.  We  return  to  town  to- 
morrow." 


THE  PICK\\nCK  CLUB.  109 

"•♦  To-monoxv,"  exclaimed  his  admiring  followers. 

*'  To-morrow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  This  trea'sure  must  be  at  once 
depositod  wher?  it  can  be  thoroughly  investigated,  and  properly  under- 
stood. I  have  another  reason  for  this  step.  "In  a  few  davo  an  electioa 
is  to  take  place  for  the  borough  of  Eatanswill,  at  which  Mr.  Perker,  a 
gentleman  whom  I  lately  met,  is  the  agent  of  one  of  the  candidates. 
We  will  behold,  and  minutely  examine  a  scene  so  interesting  to  every 
Englishman." 

**  We  will,"  was  the  animated  cry  of  three  voices. 
.  Mr.  Pickwick  looked  round  him.     The  attachment  and  fervour  of 
his  followers   lighted  up  a  glow  of  enthusiasm   withm  him.     He  was 
their  leader,  and  he  felt  it. 

"  Let  us  celebrate  this  happy  meeting  with  a  convivial  glass,"  said 
he.  This  proposition,  like  the  other,  was  received  with  unanimous  ap- 
plause. And  having  himself  deposited  the  important  stone  in  a  small 
deal  box,  purchased  from  the  landlady  for  the  purpose,  he  placed  him- 
self in  an  arm-chair  at  the  head  of  the  table  ;  and  the  evening  was  de- 
voted to  festivity  and  conversation. 

It  was  past  eleven  o'clock — a  late  hour  for  the  little  villatre  of  Cobhani 
— when  Mr.  Pickwick  retired  to  the  bed-room  which  had  been  prepared 
for  his  reception.  He  threw  open  the  lattice-window,  and  setting  his 
light  upon  the  table,  fell  into  a  train  of  meditation  on  the  hurried  events 
of  the  two  preceding  days. 

The  hour  and  the  place  were  both  favourable  to  contemplation  ;  Mr. 
Pickwick  was  roused  by  the  church  clock  striking  twelv.;.  The  first 
stroke  of  the  hour  sounded  solemnly  in  his  ear,  but  when  the  bell  ceased 
the  stillness  seemed  insupportable  ;— he  almost  felt  as  if  he  had  lost  a 
companion.  He  was  nen,ous  and  excited  ;  and  hastily  undressing  him- 
self, and  placing  his  light  in  ^e  chimney,  got  into  bed. 

Everj'  one  has  experienced  that  disagreeable  state  of  mind,  in  which 
a  sensation  of  bodily  weariness  in  vain  contends  against  an  inability 
to  sleep.  It  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  condition  at  this  moment  :  he 
»;os6°d  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  .other;  and  pert^erver- 
ingly  closed  his  eyes  as  if  to  coax  himself  to  slumber.  It  was  of 
no  use.  Whether  it  was  the  unwonted  exertion  he  had  undergone, 
or  the  heat,  or  the  brandy  and  water,  or  the  strange  bed — whatever  it 
was,  his  thoughts  kept  reverting  very  uncomfortably  to  the  grim  pictures 
<]own  stairs,  and  the  old  stories  to  which  they  had  given  rise  in  the 
■course  of  the  evening.  After  half  an  hour's  tumbling  about,  he  came 
to  the  unsatisfactory  conclusion,  that  it  was  of  no  Ui-e  trying  to  sleep; 
so  he  got  up  and  partially  dressed  himself  Any  thing,  he  thoughtj 
was  better  than  lying  there  fancying  all  kinds  of  horrors.  Ho  looked  out 
of  the  window — it  was  very  dark.  He  walked  about  the  room — it  was 
very  lonely. 

He  had  taken  a  few  turns  from  the  door  to  the  window,  and  from  the 
window  to  the  door,  when  the  clergyman's  manuscript'for  the  first  time 
f^ntered  his  head.  It  was  a  good  thought.  If  it  failed  to  interest  him, 
it  might  send  him  to  sleep.  He  took  it  from  his  coat-pocket,  and  draw- 
ing a  small  table  towards  his  bed-side,  trimmed  the  light,  put  on  his 
spectacles,  and  composed  himself  to  read.  It  was  a  strange  hand- 
writing, and  the  paper  was  much  soiled  and  blotted.  The  title  gave 
liim  a  sudden  start,  too  ;  and  he  could  not  avoid  casting  a  wistful  glance 
round  the  room.  Reflecting  on  the  absurdity  of  giving  way  to  sutii 
feelings,  however,  he  trimmed  the  light  again,  and  read  as  follows; 
Vol.  I.— 10 


110  P0STHUM0D3  PAPERS  OT 

A  MADMAN'S  MANUSCRIPT. 

'*  Yes  ! — a  madman's  !  IIow  that  word  would  have  struck  to  my 
heart,  many  years  ago  I  How  it  would  have  roused  the  terror  that  used 
to  come  upon  me  sometimes  ;  sending  the  blood  hissing  and  tingling 
through  my  veins,  till  the  cold  dew  of  fear  stood  in  large  drops  upon 
ray  skin,  and  my  knees  knocked  together  with  fright  !  I  like  it  now,  • 
though.  Ifs  a  tine  name.  Show  me  the  monarch  whose  angry  frown 
was  ever  feared  like  the  glare  of  a  madman's  eye — whose  cord  and  axe 
were  ever  half  so  sure  as  a  madman's  grip.  Ho  !  ho  !  It's  a  grand 
thing  to  be  mad !  to  be  peeped  at  like  a  wild  lion  through  the  iron  bafs 
— to  gnash  one's  teeth  and  howl,  through  the  long  still  night,  to  the 
merry  ring  of  a  heavy  chain — and  to  roll  and  twine  among  the  straw, 
transported  with  such  brave  music.  Hurrah  for  the  matlhouse  !  Oh, 
it's  a  rare  place  ! 

"  I  remember  days  when  I  was  afraid  of  being  mad  :  when  I  used  to 
start  from  my  sleep,  and  fall  upon  my  knees,  and  pray  to  be  spared  from 
the  curse  of  my  race:  when  I  rushed  from  the  sight  of  merriment  or 
happiness  to  hide  myself  in  some  lonely  place,  and  spend  the  weary  hours 
in  watching  the  progress  of  the  fever  that  was  to  consume  my  brain. 
I  knew  that  madness  was  mixed  up  with  my  very  blood,  and  the  mar- 
row of  my  bones  ;  that  one  generation  had  passed  away  without  the 
pestilence  appearing  among  them,  and  that  I  was  the  first  in  whom  it 
would  revive.  I  knew  it  must  be  so  ;  that  so  it  always  had  been,  and 
so  it  ever  wx-uld  be  :  and  when  I  cowered  in  some  obscure  corner  of  a 
crowded  room,  and  saw  men  whisper,  and  point,  and  turn  their  eyes  to- 
wards me,  I  knew  they  were  telling  each  other  of  the  doomed  madman  ; 
and  I  slunk  away  again  to  mope  in  solitude. 

"  I  did  this  for  years  ;  long,  long  years  they  were.  The  nights  here 
ate  long  sometimes — very  long  ;  but  they  are  nothing  to  the  restless 
nights,  and  dreadful  dreams  I  had  at  that  time.  It  makes  me  cold  to  re- 
member them.  Large  dusky  forms,  with  sly  and  jeering  faces,  crouched 
in  the  corners  of  the  room,  and  bent  over  my  bed  at  night,  tempting  me 
to  madness.  They  told  me,  in  low  whispers,  that  the  floor  of  the  old 
house  in  which  my  father's  father  died,  was  stained  with  his  own  blood, 
shed  by  his  own  hand  in  raging  madness.  I  drove  my  fingers  into  my 
ears,  but  they  screamed  into  my  head  till  the  room  rang  with  it,  that  in 
one  generation  before  him  the  madness  slumbered,  but  that  his  grand- 
father had  lived  for  years  with  his  hands  fettered  to  the  ground,  to  pre- 
vent his  tearing  himself  to  pieces.  I  knew  they  told  the  truth.  I  knew 
it  well.  I  had  found  it  out  years  before,  though  they  had  tried  to  keep 
it  from  me.  Ha  !  ha  !  I  was  too  cunning  for  them,  madman  as  they 
thought  me. 

"  At  last  it  came  upon  me,  and  I  wopdered  how  I  could  ever  have 
feared  it.  I  rould  go  into  the  world  now,  and  laugh  and  shout  with  the 
best  among  them.  I  knew  I  was  mad,  but  they  did  not  even  suspect  it. 
How  I  used  to  hug  myself  with  delight,  when  I  thought  of  the  fine  trick 
I  was  playing  them  after  their  old  pointing  and  leering,  when  I  was  not 
road,  but  only  dreading  that  I  might  one  day  become  so !  And  how  I 
used  to  laugh  for  joy,  when  I  was  alone,  and  thought  how  well  I  kept 
my  secret,  and  how  quickly  my  kind  friends  would  have  fallen  from  me, 
if  they  had  known  the  truth.  I  could  have  screamed  with  ecstacy 
when  I  dined  alone  with  some  fine  roaring  fellow,  to  think  how  pale  ho 
would  have  turned,  and  how  fsist  he  would  have  run,  if  he  had  known 


THE    PICKWICK    CLtTB.  Ill 

that  the  dear  friend  who  sat  close  to  him,  sharpening  a  bright  glittering 
knife,  was  a  madman,  with  all  the  power,  and  half  the  will,  to  plunge  it 
in  his  heart.     Oh,  it  was  a  merry  life  ! 

"  Riches  became  mine,  wealth  poured  in  upon  me,  and  I  rioted  in 
pleasures,  enhanced  a  thousand-fold  to  me  by  the  consciousness  of  my 
well-kept  secret.  I  inherited  an  estate.  The  law — the  eagle-eyed 
law  itself — had  been  deceived,  and  had  handed  over  disputed  thousands 
to  a  madman's  hands.  Where  was  the  wit  of  the  sharp-sighted  men 
of  sound  mind  I  Where  the  dexterity  of  the  lawyers,  eager  to  discover 
a  flaw  !     The  madman's  cunning  had  over-reached  them  all. 

"  I  had  money.  How  I  was  courted  !  I  spent  profusely.  How  I 
was  praised"?  How  those  three  proud  overbearing  brothers  humbled 
themselves  before  me.  The  old  white-headed  father,  too — such  defer- 
ence— suph  respect — such  devoted  friendship — why,  he  worshipped  me. 
The  old  man  had  a  daughter,  and  the  young  men  a  sister ;  and  all  the 
five  were  poor.  I  was  rich  ;  and,  when  I  married  the  girl,  I  saw  a  smile 
of  triumph  play  upon  the  faces  of  her  needy  relatives,  as  they  thought 
of  their  well-planned  schemes,  and  their  fine  prize.  It  was  for  me  to 
smile.  To  smile  !  To  laugh  outright,  and  tear  my  hair  and  roll  upon, 
the  ground  with  shrieks  of  merriment.  They  little  thought  they  had 
married  her  to  a  madman. 

*'  Sta)'.  If  they  had  known  it,  would  they  have  saved  her  !  A 
sister's  happiness  against  her  husband's  gold.  The  lightest  feather  I 
blow  into  the  air.  against  the  gay  chain  that  ornaments  my  body  ! 

"  In  one  thing  I  was  deceived,  with  all  my  cunning.  If  I  had  not 
been  mad, — for  though  we  madmen  are  sharp-witted  enough,  we  get 
bewildered  sometimes, —  I  should  have  known  that  the  girl  would  rather 
have  been  placed,  stiff  and  cold,  in  a  dull  leaden  coffin,  than  borne  an 
envied  bride  to  my  rich,  glittering  house.  I  should  have  known  that  her 
hea-t  was  with  the  dark-eyed  boy,  whose  name  I  once  heard  her  breathe 
in  her  troubled  sleep  ;  and  that  she  had  been  sacrificed  to  me,  to  relievo 
the  poverty  of  the  old  white-headed  man,  and  the  haughty  brothers. 

*'  I  don't  remember  form  or  faces  now,  but  I  know  the  girl  was 
beautiful.  I  know  she  was  ;  for  in  the  bright  moonlight  nights,  when. 
I  start  up  from  my  sleep,  and  all  is  quiet  about  me,  I  see,  standing  still 
and  motionless  in  one  corner  of  this  cell,  a  slight  and  wasted  figure, 
with  long  black  hair,  which,  streaming  down  her  back,  stirs  with  no 
earthly  wind,  and  eyes  that  fix  their  gaze  on  me,  and  never  wink  or 
close.  Hush  I  the  blood  chills  at  my  heart  as  I  write  it  down — that 
form  is  hers ;  the  face  is  very  pale,  and  the  eyes  are  glassy  bright  : 
but  I  know  them  well.  That  figure  never  moves  ;  it  never  frowns  and 
mouths  as  others  do,  that  fill  this  place  sometimes  ;  but  it  is  much  more 
dreadful  to  me,  even  than  the  spirits  that  tempted  me  many  years  ago 
— it  comes  fresh  from  ihe  grave  ;   and  is  so  very  death-like. 

"  For  nearly  a  year  I  saw  that  face  grow  paler  :  for  nearly  a  year  I 
eaw  the  tears  steal  down  the  mournful  cheeks,  and  never  knew  the 
cause.  I  found  it  out  at  last,  though.  They  could  not  keep  it  from 
me  long.  She  had  never  liked  me  ;  I  had  never  thought  she  did  :  she 
despised  my  wealth,  and  hated  the  splendour  in  which  she  lived  ; — I  had 
not  expected  that.  She  loved  another.  This  I  had  never  thought  of 
Strange  feelings  came  over  me,  and  thouohts,  forced  upon  me  by  some 
secret  power,  whirled  round  and  round  my  brain.  I  did  not  hate  her, 
though  I  hated  the  boy  she  still  wept  for.  I  pitied — yes,  I  pitied — the 
wretched  life  to  which  her  cold  and  selfish  relations  had  doomed  her. 


2  IS  posTiiusfous  PAPER»  or 

I  knew  that  she  could  not  live  long,  but  the  thought  that  before  her 
death  she  might  give  birth  to  some  ill-fated  being,  destined  to  hand- 
down  madness  to  its  olTspring,  determined  me.     I  resolved  to  kill  her, 

"  For  many  weeks  I  thought  of  poison,  and  then  of  drowning,  and 
then  of  fire.  A  fine  sight,  the  grand  house  in  flames,  and  the  mad- 
man's wife  smouldering  away  to  cinders.  Think  of  the  jest  of  a  large 
reward,  too,  and  of  some  sane  man  swinging  in  the  wind,  fur  a  deed 
he  never  did,  and  all  through  a  madman's  cunning  !  I  thought  often 
of  this,  but  I  gave  it  up  at  last.  Oh  I  the  pleasure  of  stropping  the 
razor,  day  after  day,  feeling  the  sharp  edge,  and  thinking  of  the  gash 
one  stroke  of  its  thin  bright  point  would  make  ! 

"  At  last  the  old  spirits  who  had  been  with  me  so  often  before, 
whispered  in  my  ear  that  the  time  was  come,  and  thrust  the  open  razor 
into  my  hand.  I  grasped  it  firmly,  rose  softly  from  the  bed,  and  leaned 
over  my  sleeping  wife.  Her  face  was  buried  in  her  hands.  I  with- 
drew them  softly,  and  they  fell  listlessly  on  her  bosom.  She  had  been 
weeping,  for  the  traces  of  the  tears  wore  still  wet  upon  her  cheek.  I  .^r 
face  was  calm  and  placid  ;  and  even  as  I  looked  upon  it,  a  tranquil 
smile  lighted  up  her  pale  features.  I  laid  my  hand  softly  on  her 
shoulder.  She  started — it  was  only  a  passing  dream.  I  leaned  for- 
ward again.     She  screamed  and  woke. 

•'  One  motion  of  my  hand,  and  she  would  never  again  have  uttered 
cry  or  sound.  But  I  was  startled,  and  drew  back.  Her  eyes  were 
fixed  on  mine.  I  know  not  how  it  was,  but  they  cowed  and  frightened 
me  ;  and  I  quailed  beneath  them.  She  rose  from  the  bed,  still  gazing 
fixedly  and  steadily  on  me.  I  trembled  ;  the  razor  was  in  my  hand, 
but  I  could  not  move.  She  made  towards  the  door.  As  she  neared  it, 
she  turned,  and  withdrew  her  eyes  from  my  face.  The  spell  was 
broken.  I  bounded  forward,  and  clutched 'her  by  the  arm.  Uttering 
shriek  upon  shriek,  she  sank  upon  the  ground. 

*'  Now  I  could  have  killed  her  without  a  struggle  ;  but  the  house  was 
alarmed.  I  heard  the  tread  of  footsteps  on  the  stairs.  I  replaced  the 
razor  in  its  usual  drawer,  unfastened  the  door,  and  called  loudly  for 
assistance. 

"  They  came,  and  raised  her,  and  placed  her  on  the  bed.  She  lay 
bereft  of  animation  for  hours  ;  ajid  when  life,  look,  and  speech  return- 
ed, her  senses  had  deserted  her,  and  she  raved  wildly  and  furiously. 

"  Doctors  w^ere  called  in — great  men  who  rolled  up  to  my  door  in 
easy  carriages,  with  fine  horses  and  gaudy  servants.  They  were  at 
her  bedside  for  weeks.  They  had  a  great  meeting,  and  consulted 
together  in  low  and  solemn  voices  in  another  room.  One,  the  cleverest 
and  most  celebrated  among  them  took  me  aside,  and  bidding  me  pre- 
pare for  the  worst,  told  me — me,  the  madman  ! — that  my  wife  was  mad. 
He  stood  close  beside  me  at  an  open  windov^-,  his  eyes  looking  in  my 
face,  and  his  hand  laid  upon  my  arm.  With  one  effort,  I  could  have 
hurled  him  into  the  street  beneath.  It  would  have  been  rare  sport  to 
have  done  it ;  but  my  secret  was  at  stake,  and  I  let  him  go.  A  few 
days  after,  they  told  me  I  must  place  her  under  some  restraint  :  I  must 
provide  a  keeper  for  her.  /.'  I  went  into  the  open  fields  where  none 
could  hear  me,  and  laughed  till  the  air  resounded  with  my  shouts  ! 

"She  died  next  day.  The  white-headed  old  man  follotved  her  ta 
the  grave,  and  the  proud  brothers  dnipped  a  tear  over  the  insensible 
corpse  of  her  whose  suft'erings  they  had  regarded  in  her  life'ime  with 
muscles  of  iron.     All  this  was  food  for  Taj  secret  mixth,  and  I  laughed 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  113 

fe^hind  the  white  handkerchief  which  I  held  up  to  my  face  as  we  rode 
home,  till  the  tears  came  into  my  eyes. 

*'  But  though  I  had  carried  my  object  and  killed  her,  I  was  restless 
and  disturbed,  and  I  felt  that  before  long  my  secret  must  be  known. 
I  could  not  hide  the  wild  mirth  and  joy  which  boiled  within  me,  and 
made  me  when  I  was  alone,  at  home,  jump  up  and  beat  my  hands 
together,  and  dance  round  and  round,  and  roar  aloud.  When  I  went 
Cful,  and  saw  the  busy  crowds  hurrying  about  the  streets:  or  to  the 
theatre,  and  heard  the  sound  of  music,  and  beheld  the  people  dancing, 
I  felt  such  glee,  that  I  could  have  rushed  among  them,  and  torn  them 
to  pieces  limb  from  limb,  and  howled  in  transport.  But  I  ground  my 
teeth,  and  struck  my  leet  upon  the  Hoor,  and  drove  my  sharp  nails  into 
my  hands.    I  kept  it  down  ;  and  no  one  knew  that  I  was  a  madman  yet. 

"  I  remember — though  it  is  one  of  the  last  things  I  can  remember  : 
for  now  I  mix  realities  with  my  dreams,  and  having  so  much  to  do, 
and  being  always  hurried  here,  have  no  time  to  separate  the  two,  from 
some  strange  confusion  in  which  they  get  involved — I  remember  how 
I  let  it  out  at  last.  Ha  !  ha  !  I  think  I  see  their  frightened  looks  now, 
and  feel  the  ease  with  which  I  flung  them  from  me.  and  dashed  my 
clenched  fists  into  their  white  faces,  and  then  flew  like  the  wind,  and 
left  them  screaming  and  shouting  far  behind.  The  strength  of  a  giant 
comes  upon  me  when  I  think  of  it.  There — see  how  this  iron  bar 
bends  beneath  my  furious  wrench.  I  could  snap  it  like  a  twig,  only 
there  are  long  galleries  here  with  many  doors — I  don't  think  I  could 
find  my  way  along  them  :  and  even  if  1  could,  I  kndw  there  are  iron 
gates  below  which  they  keep  locked  and  barred.  They  know  what 
a  clever  madman  I  have  been,  and  they  are  proud  to  have  me  here  to 
ahow. 

"  Let  me  see  ; — yes,  I  had  been  out.  It  was  late  at  night  when  I 
reached  home,  and  found  the  proudest  of  the  three  proud  brother?, 
waiting  to  see  me — urgent  business  he  said  :  I  recollect  it  well.  I 
hated  that  man  with  all  a  madman's  hate.  Many  and  many  a  time 
had  my  fingers  loncred  to  tear  him.  They  told  me  he  was  there.  I 
ran  swiftly  up  stairs.  He  had  a  word  to  say  to  me.  I  dismissed  the 
servants.     It  was  late,  and  we  were  alone  together — for  the  first  tmif. 

*'  I  kept  my  eyes  carefully  from  him  at  first,  for  I  knew  what  ha 
little  thoujht,  and  I  gloried  in  the  knowledge — that  the  light  of  mad- 
ness gleamed  from  them  like  fire.  We  sat  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes. 
He  spoke  at  last.  My  recent  dissipation,  and  strange  remarks  made 
80  soon  after  his  sister's  death,  were  an  insult  to  her  memory.  Coup- 
Fmg  together  many  circumstances  which  had  at  first  escaped  his  obser- 
vation, he  thought  I  had  not  treated  her  well.  He  wished  to  know 
whether  he  was  right  in  inferring  that  I  meant  to  cast  a  reproach  upon 
her  memory,  and  a  disrespect  upon  her  family.  It  was  due  to  the 
uniform  he  wore  to  demand  this  explanation. 

"  This  man  had  a  commission  in  the  army,  a  commission,  purchased 
with  my  money  and  his  sister's  misery.  This  was  the  man  who  had 
been  foremost  in  the  plot  to  ensnare  me,  and  grasp  my  wealth.  This 
was  the  man  who  had  been  the  main  instrument  in  forcing  his  sister  to 
wed  me  ;  well  knowing  that  her  heart  was  given  to  that  puling  boy  — 
Due  !  Due  to  his  unifonn  !  The  livery  of  his  degradation  '  I  turn- 
ed my  eyes  upon  him — I  could  not  help  it — but  I  spoke  not  a  word 

I  saw  the  sudden  change  that  came  upon  him,  beneath  my  gaze  — 
He  was  a  bold  man,  but  the  colour  faded  from  his  face,  ai>d  he  drew 
10* 


114:  P0STHUMf>L'5    PAPERS    6r 

back  his  chair.  I  drago^ed  mine  nearer  to  hiin  ;  and  as  I  laughed— J 
was  very  merry  then — 1  saw  him  shudder.  I  felt  the  madness  rising 
within  me.     He  was  afraid  of  me. 

"  '  You  were  very  fond  of  your  sister  when  she  was  alive' — I  said 
— «  Very.' 

*'  He  looked  uneasily  round  him,  and  I  saw  his  hand  grasp  the  back 
of  his  chair  ;  but  he  said  nothing. 

"  *  You  villain,'  said  I,  '  I  found  you  out ;  I  discovered  your  hellish 
plot  against  m^  ;  I  know  her  heart  was  fi.xed  on  some  one  else  before 
you  compelled  her  to  marry  me.     I  know  it — I  know  it. ' 

'•He  jumped  suddenly  from  his  chair,  brandished  it  aloft,  and  bade 
roe  stand  back — for  I  took  care  to  be  getting  closer  to  him  all  the  time 
I  spoke. 

"  I  screamed  rather  than  talked,  for  I  felt  tumultuous  pas-sions  eddy- 
ing through  my  veins,  and  the  old  spirits  whispering  and  taunting  me 
to  tear  his  heart  out. 

"  '  Damn  you,'  said  I,  starting  up,  and  rushing  upon  him  ;  '  I  killed" 
her.     I  am  a  madman.     Down  with  you.  Blood,  Wood,  I  will  have  it.' 

"  I  turned  aside  with  one  blow  the  chair  he  hurled  at  me  in  his  ter- 
ror, and  closed  with  him  ;  and  with  a  heavy  crash  we  rolled  upon  the 
floor  together. 

"  It  was  a  fine  struggle  that,  for  he  was  a  tall  strong  man,  fighting 
for  his  life  :  and  I  a  powerful  madman,  thirsting  to  destroy  him.  I 
knew  no  strCTigth  could  equal  mine,  and  I  was  right.  Right  again^ 
though  a  madman  I  His  struggles  grew  fainter,  I  knelt  upon  his  chest, 
and  clasped  his  brawny  throat  firn)ly  with  both  hands.  His  face  greAv 
purple  ;  his  eyes  were  starting  from  his  head,  and  with  protruded 
tongue  he  seemed  to  mock  me.     I  squeezed  the  tighter. 

*'  The  door  was  suddenly  burst  opea  with  a  loud  noise,  and  a  crowd 
of  people  rushed  forward,  crying  aloud  to  each  other,  to  secure  the 
madman. 

"  My  secret  was  out ;  and  my  only  struggle  now  was  for  liberty  and 
freedooL  I  gained  my  feet  before  a  hand  was  on  me,  threw  myself 
axaong  my  assailants,  and  cleared  my  way  with  my  strong  arm  its  if  f 
boro  a  hatchet  in  my  hand,  and  hewed  them  down  before  me.  I  gained 
the  door,  dropped  over  the  banisters,  and  in  an  instant  was  in  the 
street. 

"  Straight  and  sv/ift  I  ran,  and  no  one  dared  to  stop  me.'  I  heard 
the  noise  of  feet  behind>  and  redoubled  my  speed.  It  grew  fainter  and 
fainter  in  the  distance,  and  at  length  died  away  altogether  ;  but  on  I, 
bounded,  through  marsh  and  rivulet,  over  fence  and  wall,  with  a  wild 
shout  which  was  taken  up  by  the  strange  beings  that  flocked  around 
me  on  every  side,  and  swelled  the  sound  till  it  pierced  the  air.  I  was 
borne  upon  the  arms  of  demons  who  swept  along  upon  the  wind,  and 
bore  down  bank  and  hedge  before  them,  and  spun  me  round  and  round 
with  a  rustle  and  a  speed  that  made  my  head  swim,  until  at  last  they 
throw  me  from  them  with  a  violent  shock,  and  I  fell  heavily  upon  the 
earth.  When  I  awoke  I  found  myself  here — here  in  this  gay  cell, 
where  the  sun-light  seldom  comes,  and  the  moon  steals  in  in  rays  which 
only  serve  to  show  the  dark  shadows  about  me,  and  that  silent  figuro 
iji  its  old  corner.  When  I  lie  awake,  J  can  sometimes  hear  strange 
shrieks  and  cries  from  distant  parts  of  this  large  place.  V/hat  they 
are  I  know  not ;  but  they  neither  come  from  that  pale  form,  nor  does 
\i  regard  them.  For,  from  the  furst  shades  of  dusk  till  the  earliest  light 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  115 

of  morning,  it  still  stands  motionless  in  the  same  place,  listening  to 
the  music  of  my  iron  chain,  and  watching  my  gambols  on  my  straw 

At  the  end  of  the  manuscript  was  written,  in  another  hand,  this 
note  : 

[The  unhappy  man  whose  ravings  are  recorded  above,  was  a  melan- 
choly  instance  of  the  baneful  results  of  energies  misdirected  in  early 
life,  and  excesses  prolonged  until  their  consequences  could  never  be 
repaired.  The  thoughtless  riot,  dissipation,  and  debauchery  of  his 
younger  days,  produced  fever  and  delirium,  The  first  eflects  of  the 
latter  was  the  strange  delusion,  founded  upon  a  well-known  medical 
theor}'.  strongly  contended  for  by  some,  and  as  strongly  contested  by 
others,  that  an  hereditary  madness  existed  in  his  family.  This  pro- 
duced a  settled  gloom,  which  in  time  developed  a  morbid  insanity,  and 
tinally  terminated  in  raving  madness.  There  is  every  reason  to  believe 
that  the  events  he  detailed,  though  distorted  in  the  description,  by  his 
diseased  imagination,  really  happened  It  is  only  matter  of  wonder  to 
those  who  were  acquainted  with  the  vices  of  his  early  career,  that  hi.-* 
passions,  when  no  longer  controlled  by  reason,  did  not  lead  him  to  the 
commission  of  still  more  frightful  deeds.] 

?.Ir.  Pickwick's  candle  was  just  expiring  in  the  socket,  as  he  conclu- 
ded the  perusal  of  the  old  clergyman's  manuscript ;  and  when  the  light 
went  suddenly  out,  without  any  previous  flicker  by  way  of  warning,  it 
communicated  a  very  considerable  start  to  his  excited  frame.  Hastily 
throwing  oft'  such  articles  of  clothing  pa  he  had  put  on  when  he  rose 
from  his  uneasy  bed,  and  casting  a  fearful  glance  around,  he  once  more 
scrambled  hastily  between  the  sheets,  and  soon  fell  fast  asleep. 

The  sun  was  shining  brilliantly  into  his  chamber  when  he  awoke, 
and  the  morning  was  far  advanced.  The  gloom  which  had  oppressed 
him  on  the  previous  night  had  disappeared  with  the  dark  shr.dovvs 
which  shrouded  the  landscape,  and  his  thoughts  and  feelings  were  a.^ 
light  and  gay  as  the  morning  itself  After  a  hearty  breakfast,  the  four 
gentlemen  salhed  forth  to  walk  to  Gravesend,  followed  by  a  man  bear- 
ing the  stone  in  its  deal  box.  They  reached  that  town  about  one 
o'clock,  (their  luggage  they  had  directed  to  be  forwarded  to  the  city, 
from  Rochester,)  and  being  fortunate  enough  to  secure  places  on  the 
outside  of  a  coach,  arrived  in  London,  in  sound  health  and  spirits,  on 
that  same  afternoon. 

The  next  three  or  four  days  were  occupied  with  the  preparations 
which  were  neccssarj-  for  their  journey  to  the  borough  of  E;itans\vill. 
As  any  reference  to  that  most  important  undertaking  demands  a  sepa- 
rate chapter,  we  may  devote  the  few  lines  which  remain  at  the  close  of 
this,  to  narrate,  with  great  brevity,  the  history  of  the  antiquarian 
discovery. 

It  appears  from  the  Transaction.'?  of  the  Club,  then,  that  Mr.  Pick- 
wick lectured  upon  the  discovery  at  a  general  club  meeting,  convened 
on  the  night  succeeding  iheir  return,  and  entered  into  a  variety  of  in- 
genious and  erudite  speculations  on  ib.e  meaning  of  the  inscription. 
It  also  appears  that  a  skilful  artist  executed  a  faithful  delineation  of 
the  curiosity,  which  was  engraven  on  stone,  and  presented  to  the  Royal 
Antiquarian  Society, and  other  learned  bodies, — that  heart-burnings  and 
jealousies  Without  number  were  created  by  rival  controversies  which 
were  penned  upon  the  subject — and  that  Mr.  Pickwick  himself  wrote  a  ' 


116  POSTHOMOUS   PAPERS  OF 

pamphlet,  containing^  ninety-six  pages  of  very  small  print,  and  twenty- 
seven  different  readings  of  the  inscription.  That  three  old  gentlemen 
cut  off  their  eldest  sons  with  a  shilling  apiece,  for  pre«:uming  to  doubt 
the  antiquity  of  the  fragment— and  that  o«e  enthusiastic  individual 
cut  himself  olf  prematurely  in  despair  at  being  unable  to  fathom  its 
meaning.  Thai  jMr.  Pickwick  was  elected  an  honorary  member  of 
seventeen  native  and  foreign  societies,  for  making  the  discovery  ;  that 
none  of  the  seventeen  could  make  any  thing  of  it,  but  that  all  the  seven- 
teen agreed  it  was  very  extraordinary. 

Mr.  Blotton,  indeed — and  the  name  ^vill  be  doomed  to  the  undying 
contempt  of  those  who  cultivate  the  mysterious  and  the  sublime — Mr. 
Blotton,  we  say,  with  the  doubt  and  cavilling  peculiar  to  vulgar  minds, 
presumed  to  state  a  view  of  the  case,  as  degrading  as  ridiculous.  Mr. 
Blotton,  with  a  mean  desire  to  tarnish  the  lustre  of  the  immortal  name 
of  Pickwick,  actually  undertook  a  journey  to  Cobham  in  person,  and 
on  his  return,  sarcastically  observed  in  an  oration  at  the  club,  that  he 
had  seen  the  man  from  whom  the  stone  was  purchased  ;  that  the  man 
presumed  the  stone  to  be  ancient,  but  solemnly  denied  the  antiquity  of 
the  inscription — inasmuch  as  he  represented  it  to  have  been  rudely 
carved  by  himself  in  an  idle  mood,  and  to  display  letters  intended  to 
bear  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  simple  construction  of — "  Bill 
Stumps,  his  mark  ;"  and  that  Mr.  Stumps,  being  little  in  the  habit  of 
original  composition,  and  more  accustomed  to  be  guided  by  the  sound 
of  words  than  by  the  strict  rules  of  orthography,  had  omitted  the  con- 
cluding "L"  of  his  Christian  name. 

The  Pickwick  Club,  as  might  have  been  expected  from  so  enlightened 
an  institution,  received  this  statement  with  the  contempt  it  deserved, 
expelled  the  presumptuous  and  ill-conditioned  Blotton  from  the  society, 
and  voted  Air.  Pickwick  a  pair  of  gold  spectacles,  in  token  of  their 
confidence  and  approbation  ;  in  return  for  which  Mr.  Pickwick  caused 
a  portrait  of  himself  to  be  painted,  and  hung  up  in  the  club-room — 
which  portrait,  by-the-by,  he  did  not  wish  to  have  destroyed  when  he 
grew  a  few  years  older. 

Mr.  Blotton  was  ejected  but  not  conquered.  He  also  wrote  a  pam- 
phlet, addressed  to  the  seventeen  learned  societies^  containing  a  repe- 
tition of  the  statement  he  had  already  made,  and  rather  more  than 
half  intimating  his  opinion  that  the  seventeen  learned  societies  aforesaid 
were  so  many  "humbugs."  Hereupon  the  virtuous  indignation  of 
the  seventeen  learned  societies  being  roused,  several  fresh  pamphlet.s^ 
appeared  ;  the  foreign  learned  societies  corresponded  with  the  native 
learned  societies,  the  native  learned  societies  translated  the  pamphlets- 
of  the  foreign  learned  societies  into  English,  the  foreign  learned  socie- 
ties translated  the  pamphlets  of  the  native  learned  societies  into  all 
s-orts  of  languages  :  and  thus  commenced  that  celebrated  scientific  dis- 
cussion, so  well  knov.'n  to  all  men  as  the  Pickwick  controversy. 

But  this  base  attempt  to  injure  Mr.  Pickwick,  recoiled  upon  the 
head  of  its  calumnious  author.  The  seventeen  learned  societies  unani- 
mously voted  the  presumptuous  Blotton  an  ignorant  meddler  ;  and 
forthwith  set  to  work  upon  more  treatises  than  ever.  And  to  this  day 
the  stone  remains  an  illegible  monument  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  greatness,, 
and  a  lasting  trophy  of  the  littleness  of  his  enemies. 


THE  PICKVNICK  CLXTB.  117 


CHAPTER  XII. 

DESCRIPTIVE    OF  A    VERY    IMPORTANT    PROCEEDING  ON  THE    PART    OF    MK. 
PICKWICK  ;    NO  LESS  AN  EPOCH   IN  HIS  LIFE,  THAN  !N  THIS  HISTORV. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  apartments  in  Goswell-street,  although  on  a  Hmited 
tocale,  were  not  on!}'  of  a  very  neat  and  comfortable  description,  but 
peculiarly  adapted  for  the  residence  of  a  man  of  his  genius  and  observa- 
tion. His  sitting-room  was  the  first  floor  front,  his  bed-room  the 
second  floor  front ;  and  thus,  whether  he  was  sitting  at  his  desk  in 
the  parlour,  or  standing  before  the  dressing  glass  in  his  dormitory,  he 
had  an  equal  opportunity  of  contemplating  human  nature  in  all  the 
nun^erous  phases  it  exhibits,  in  that  not  more  populous  than  popular 
thoroughfare.  His  landlady,  Mrs.  Bardell — the  relict  and  sole  execu- 
trix of  a  deceased  custom-house  officer — was  a  comely  woman  of  bust- 
ling manners  and  agreeable  appearance,  with  a  natural  genius 
for  cooking,  improved  by  study  and  long  practice  into  an  exquisite 
talent.  There  were  no  children,  no  servants,  no  fowls.  The  only 
other  inmates  of  the  house  were  a  lame  man,  an  1  a  small  boy  ;  the  first 
a  lodcfer,  the  second  a  production  of  .Mrs.  Bardell's.  The  large  man 
was  always  home  precisely  at  ten  o'clock  at  night,  at  v-hich  hour  he 
regularly  condensed  himself  into  the  limits  of  a  dwarfish  French  bed- 
stead in  the  back  parlour  ;  and  the  infantine  sports  and  gymnastic 
exercises  of  Master  Bardell  were  exclusively  confined  to  the  neigh- 
bouring pavements  and  gutters.  Cleanliness  and  quiet  reigned 
throughout  the  house  ;   and  in  it  Mr.  Pickwick's  will  was  law. 

To  any  one  acquainted  with  these  points  of  the  domestic  economy 
of  the  establishment,  and  conversant  with  the  admirable  regulation  of 
]\Ir.  Pickwick's  mind,  his  appearance  and  behaviour  on'  the  morning 
previous  to  that  which  had  been  fixed  upon  for  the  journey  to  Eatan- 
swill,  would  have  been  most  mysterious  and  unaccountable.  He  paced 
the  room  to  and  fro  with  hurried  steps,  popped  his  head  out  of  the 
window  at  intervals  of  about  three  minutes  each,  constantly  referred  to 
his  watch,  and  exhii/ited  many  other  manifestations  of  impatience, 
very  unusual  with  him.  It  was  evident  that  something  of  great  im- 
portance was  in  contemplation,  but  what  that  something  was  not  even 
Mrs.  Bardell  herself  had  been  enabled  to  discover. 

"  Mrs.  Bardell,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  at  last,  as  that  amiable  female 
approached  the  termi.iation  of  a  prolonged  dusting  of  the  apartment — 

"  Sir,"  said  .Mrs.  Bardell. 

♦'  Your  little  boy  is  a  very  long  time  gone." 

♦'  Why  it's  a  good  long  way  to  the  Borough,  sir,"  remonstrated  Mrs. 
Bardell. 

"  Ah,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  very  true  ;  so  it  is." 

Mr.  Pickwick  relapsed  into  silence,  and  Mrs.  Bardell  resumed  her 
dusting. 

"  Mrs.  Bardell,"  said  Mr,  Pickwick,  at  the  expiration  of  a  few  minutes. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell  aoain. 


118  POSTHUMOUS    PAPETIS    OF 

"  Do  you  think  it's  a  much  greater  expense  to  keep  two  people,  than 
to  keep  one  ?" 

"  La,  Mr  Pickwick,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  colouring  up  to  the  very 
border  of  her  cap,  as  she  fancied  she  observed  a  species  of  matrimonial 
twinkle  in  the  eyes  of  her  lodger ;  "  La,  Mr.  Pickwick,  what  a 
question  I" 

'•  Well,  but  do  you  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  That  depends — "  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  approaching  the  duster  very 
near  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  elbow,  which  was  planted  on  the  table  ;  '« that 
depends  a  good  deal  upon  the  person,  you  know,  Mr.  Pickwick;  and 
■whether  it's  a  saving  and  careful  person,  sir." 

"  Tliat's  very  true,"'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  but  the  person  I  have  in 
my  eye  (here  he  looked  very  hard  at  Mrs.  Bardejl)  I  think  possesses 
these  qualities  ;  and  has,  moreover,  a  considerable  knowledge  of  the 
world,  and  a  great  deal  of  sharpness,  Mrs.  Bardell ;  which  may  be  of 
material  use  to  me." 

"  La,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  the  crimson  rising  to  her 
cap-border  again. 

"  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  growing  energetic,  as  was  his  wont  in 
speaking  of  a  subject  which  interested  him,  "  I  do  indeed  ;  and  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  Mrs.  Bardell,  I  have  made  up  my  mind." 

"Dear  me,  sir  I"'  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  You'll  thmk  it  very  strange  now,  said  the  amiable  Mr.  Pickwick, 
with  a  good-humoured  glance  at  his  companion,  "  that  I  never  con- 
sulted you  about  this  matter,  and  never  even  mentioned  it,  till  I  sent 
your  little  boy  out  this  morning — eh?"' 

Mrs.  Bardell  could  only  reply  by  a  look.  She  had  long  worshipped 
Mr.  Pickwick  at  a  distance,  but  here  she  was,  all  at  once  raised  to  a 
pinnacle  to  which  her  wildest  and  most  extravagant  hopes  had  never 
dared  to  aspire.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  going  to  propose — a  deliberate 
plan,  too — sent  her  little  boy  to  the  Borough,  to  get  him  out  of  the  way 
— how  thoughtful,  how  considerate  ! 

'•  WelU"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  what  do  you  think  V' 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  trembling  with  agitation, 
"you're  very  kind,  sir." 

"  It'll  save  you  a  good  deal  of  trouble,  won't  iti"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Oh,  I  never  thought  any  thing  of  the  trouble,  sir,"  replied  Mrs. 
Bardell  ;  "  and,  of  course,  I  should  take  more  trouble  to  please  you 
then,  than  ever  ;  but  it  is  so  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Pickwick,  to  have  so 
miich  consideration  for  my  loneliness." 

"Ah,  to  be  sure,"  saiJ  Mr.  Pickwick;  "I  never  thought  of  that. 
When  I  am  in  town,  you'll  always  have  soiiiebody  to  sit  with  you.  To 
be  sure,  so  you  will." 

"  I'm  sure  I  ought  to  be  a  very  happy  woman,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  And  your  little  boy — "  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Bless  his  heart,"  interposed  Mrs.  Bardell,  with  a  maternal  sob. 

"  He,  loo,  will  have  a  companion,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  a  lively 
one,  who'll  teach  him,  I'll  be  bound,  more  tricks  in  a  week,  than  he 
would  ever  learn  in  a  year."     And  Mr.  Pickwick  smiled  placidly. 

•'  Oh  \ou  dear — "  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

Mr.  Pickwick  started. 

"  Oh  you  kind,  good,  playful  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell ;  and  without 
more  ado,  she  rose  from  her  chair,  and  flung  her  arms  round  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's neck,  with  a  cataract  of  tears,  and  a  chorus  of  sobs. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  119 

"Bless  my  soul,"  cried  the  astonished  Mr.  Pickwick  ; — "  Mrs.  Bar- 
dell,  my  good  woman — dear  me,  what  a  situation — pray  consider. — 
Mrs.  Bardell,  don't — if  any  body  should  come — " 

"  Oh,  let  them  come,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bardell,  fraVitically  ;  "  I'll 
never  leave  you — dear,  kind,  good,  soul ;"  and,  with  these  words,  Mrs. 
Bardell  clung  the  tighter. 

"  Mercy  upcfti  me,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  struggling  violently,  "  I  hear 
somebody  coming  up  the  stairs.  Don't,  don't,  there's  a  good  creature, 
don't."'  But  entreaty  and  remonstrance  were  alike  unavailing:  for 
Mrs.  Bardell  had  fainted  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  arms  ;  and  before  he  could 
gain  time  to  deposit  her  on  a  chair.  Master  Bardell  entered  the  room, 
ushering  in  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  struck  motionless  and  speechless.  He  stood  with 
his  lovely  burden  in  his  arms,  gazing  vacantly  on  the  countenances 
of  his  friends,  without  the  slightest  attempt  at  recognition  or  e.vplana- 
tion.  They,  in  their  turn,  stared  at  him  ;'  and  Master  Bardell,  in  his 
turn,  stared  at  every  body. 

The  astonishment  o£  the  Pickwickians  was  so  absorbing,  and  the 
perplexity  of  Mr.  Pickwick  was  so  extreme,  that  they  might  have 
remained  in  exactly  the  same  relative  situations  until  the  suspended 
animation  of  the  lady  was  restored,  had  it  not  been  for  a  most  beautiful 
and  touc'ning  expression  of  filial  affection  on  the  part  of  her  youthful 
son.  Clad  in  a  tight  suit  of  corduroy,  spangled  with  brass  buttons  of 
a  very  considerable  size,  he  at  first  stood  at  the  door  astounded  and 
uncertain  ;  but  by  degrees,  the  impression  that  his  mother  must  have 
suffered  some  personal  damage,  pervaded  his  partially  developed  mind, 
and  considering  Mr.  Pickwick  as  the  aggressor,  he  set  up  an  appalling 
and  semi-earthly  kind  of  howling,  and  butting  forward  with  his  head, 
commenced  assailing  that  immortal  gentleman  about  the  back  and  legs, 
with  such  blows  and  pinches  as  the  strength  of  his  arm,  and  the 
violence  of  his  excitement,  allowed. 

"  Take  this  little  villain  away,"  said  the  agonized  Mr.  Pickwick, 
"  he's  mad." 

♦'  What  is  the  matter  ;"  said  the  three  tongue-tied  Pickwickians. 

"  I  don't  know,''  replied  .Mr.  Pickwick,  pettishly.  "  Take  away  the 
boy — (here  Mr.  Winkle  carried  the  interesting  boy,  screaming  and 
struggling,  to  the  farther  end  of  the  apartment.) — Now  help  me  lead 
this  woman  down  stairs."' 

**  Oh,  I  am  better  now,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  faintly. 

"  Let  me  lead  you  down  stairs,"  said  the  ever  gallant  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Thank  you,  sir — thank  you,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bardell,  hysterically. 
And  down  stairs  she  was  led  accordingly,  accompanied  by  her  affec- 
tionate son. 

•'  I  cannot  conceive — "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  his  friend  returned 
— "  I  cannot  conceive  what  has  been  the  matter  with  that  woman.  I 
had  merely  announced  to  her  my  intention  of  keeping  a  man  servant, 
when  she  fell  into  the  extraordinary  paroxysm  in  which  you  found  her. 
Ver\'  extraordinary  thing." 

"  Very,"  said  his  three  friends. 

"  Placed  me  in  such  an  extremely  awkward  situation,"  continued 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Very,'"  was  the  reply  of  his  followers,  as  they  coughed  slightly, 
and  looked  dubiously  at  each  other. 


120  POSTHUMOUS  PAPEUS  OP 

This  behaviour  was  not  lost  upon  Mr.  Pickwick.     He  remarked  their 

incredulity.     They  evidently  suspected  him. 

'•  There  is  a  man  in  the  passage  now,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  It's  the  man  I  spoke  to  you  about,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  *'  T  sent  for 
him  to  the  Borough  this  morning.  Have  the  goodness  to  call  him  up, 
Snodgrass." 

Mr.  Snodgrass  did  as  he  was  desired  :  and  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  forth- 
with presented  himself. 

"  Oh — you  remember  me,  I  suppose  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  should  think  so,"  replied  Sam,  with  a  patronising  wink.  "  Queer 
start  that  'ere,  but  he  was  one  too  many  for  you,  warn't  he  ]  Up  to 
snuff  and  a  pinch  or  two  over — eh  1" 

"  Never  mind  that  matter  now,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  hastily,  "  I  want 
to  speak  to  you  about  something  else.     Sit  down." 

'*  Thanli'ee,  sir,"  said  Sam.  And  down  he  sat  without  farther  bid- 
ding, having  previously  deposited  his  old  white  hat  on  the  landing  out- 
side the  door.  •'  Tan't  a  werry  good  'un  to  look  at,"  said  Sam,  *'  but 
it's  an  astonishin'  'un  to  wear  ;  and  afore  the  brim  went,  it  was  a 
werry  handsome  tile.  Hows'ever  it's  lighter  without  it,  that's  one 
thing,  and  every  hole  lets  in  some  air,  that's  another — wentilation  gos- 
samer I  calls  it."  On  the  delivery  of  this  sentiment,  Mr.  Weller  smiled 
agreeably  upon  the  assembled  Pickwickians. 

"  Now  with  regard  to  the  matter  on  which  I,  with  the  concurrence 
of  these  gentlemen,  sent  for  you,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  That's  the  pint,  sir,"  interposed  Sam  ;  "  out  with  it,  as  the  father 
said  to  the  child,  ven  he  swallowed  a  farden.'' 

"  We  want  to  know,  in  the  first  place,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  whether 
you  have  any  reason  to  be  discontented  with  your  present  situation." 

"*Afore  I  answers  that  'ere  question,  genTm'n,"  replied  Mr.  Weller, 
"  I  should  like  to  know,  in  the  first  place,  whether  you're  goin'  to  pur- 
wide  me  with  a  better." 

A  sunbeam  of  placid  benevolence  played  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  features 
as  he  said,  '•  I  have  half  made  up  my  mind  to  engage  you  myself." 

"  Have  you,  though  ?"  said  Sam.     * 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Wages  1"  inquired  Sam. 

"  Twelve  pounds  a  year,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*•  Clothes]" 

'*  Two  suits." 

*«Work?" 

"  To  attend  upon  me  ;  and  travel  about  with  me  and  these  gentle- 
men here." 

"  Take  the  bill  down,"  said  Sam,  emphatically.  ♦'  I'm  let  to  a  single 
gentleman  and  the  terms  is  agreed  upon." 

"You  accept  the  situation  1"  irrquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Cert'nly,"  replied  Sam.  "  If  the  clothes  fits  me  half  as  well  as  the 
place,  they'll  do." 

"  You  can  get  a  character,  of  course  1"  said  .Mr.  Pickwick. 

'*  Ask  the  landlady  o'  the  White  Hart  about  that,  sir,"  replied  Sam. 

"Can  you  come  this  evening?" 

"  ril  get  into  the  clothes  this  minute,  if  they're  here,"  said  Sam  with 
great  alacrity. 

"  Call  at  eight  this  evening,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  ♦'  and  if  the  inqui- 
ries are  satisfactory,  they  shall  be  provided." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB,  '121 

With  the  single  exception  of  one  amiable  indiscretion,  in  which  an 
assistant  housemaid  had  equally  participated,  the  history  of  Mr.  Wel- 
ler's  conduct  was  so  very  blameless,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  lelt  fully  justi- 
fied in  Closing  the  eniiagemeiit  that  very  evening.  With  the  prompt- 
ness and  energy  which  characterised  not  only  the  public  proceedings, 
but  all  the  private  actions  of  this  e.'.traordmary  man,  he  at  once  led  his 
new  attendant  to  one  of  those  convenient  emporiums  where  gentlemen's 
new^  and  second-hand  clothes  are  provided,  and  the  troublesome  and 
inconvenient*  formality  of  measurement  dispensed  with  ;  and  before 
night  had  closed  in,  Mr.  Weller  was  furnished  with  a  gray  coat  with 
the  'p.  c  "  button,  a  black  hat  with  a  cockade  to  it,  a  pink  striped  waist- 
coat, light  breeches  and  gaiters,  an4,a  variety  of  .other  necessaries,  too 
numerous  to  recapitulate. 

"  Well,''  said  that  suddenly  transformed  individual,  as  he  took  his 
seat  on  the  outside  of  the  Eatanswill  coach  next  morning;  '•  I  won- 
der vethcr  I'm  meant  to  be  a  footmin,  or  a  groom,  or  a  game-keeper,  or 
a  seedsman.  I  lojks  like  a  sort  of  compo  of  every  one  on  'em.  Never 
mind  ;  there's  change  of  air,  plenty  to  see,  and  little  to  do  ;  and  all  this 
Buits  my  complaint  uncommon,  so  long  life  to  the  Pickvicks,  says  I." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  EATANSWILL  ;  OF  THE  STATE  OF  PARTIES  THEREIJI  ; 
AND  OK  THE  ELECTIO.N  OF  A  MEMBER  TO  SERVt  IX  PAELlAMi:.N i  FOR 
THAT    ANCIENT,    LOYaL,  AND   PATRIOTIC  BOROUGH. 

We  Ydl\  frankly  acknowledge,  that  up  to  the  period  of  our  being  first 
immersed  in  the  voluminous  papers  of  the  Pickwick  Club,  we  had  ne- 
ver heard  of  Eatanswill ;  we  will  with  equal  candour  admit,  that  we 
have  in  vain  searched  for  proof  of  the  actual  existence  of  such  a  place 
at  the  present  day.  Knowing  the  deep  reliance  to  be  placed  on  every 
note  and  statement  of  Mr.  Pickwick's,  and  not  presuming  to  set  up  our 
recollection  against  the  recorded  declarations  of  that  great  man,  we 
have  consulted  every  authority,  bearing  upon  the  subject,  to  which  we 
could  possibly  refer.  We  have  traced  everj'  name  in  the  schedules  A 
and  B,  without  meeting  with  that  of  Eatanswill ;  we  have  minutely 
examined  every  corner  of  the  Pocket  County  Maps  issued  for  the  ben- 
efit of  society  by  our  distinguished  publishers,  and  the  same  result  has 
attended  our  investigation.  We  are  therefore  led  to  believe,  that  Mr. 
Pickwick,  with  that  anxious  desire  to  abstain  from  giving  offence  to 
any,  and  with  those  dclica'e  feelings  for  which  all  who  knew  him  well 
know  he  was  so  eminently  remarkable,  purposely  substituted  a  fictitious 
designation  for  the  leal  name  of  the  place  in  which  his  observations 
were  made.  We  are  confirmed  in  this  belief  by  a  little  circumstance, 
apparently  slight  and  trivial  in  itself,  but,  when  considered  in  this  point 
of  viewj  not  undeserving  of  notice.  In  Mr.  Pickwick's  note-book,  wo 
can  just  trace  an  entry  of  the  fact,  that  the  places  of  himself  and  fol- 
lowers were  booked  by  the  Norwich  coach  ;  but  this  entry  was  after- 
ward lined  through,  as  if  for  the  purpose  of  concealing  even  the  di- 
rection in  which  the  borough  is  situated.     We  will  not,  therefore, 

Vol.   t— 11 


122  POBTHIIMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

hazard  a  guess  upon  the  subject,  but  will  at  once  proceed  with  this  his- 
tory ;  content  with  the  materials  which  its  characters  have  provided 
for  us. 

It  appears,  then,  that  the  Eatanswill  people,  like  the  people  of  many 
other  small  towns,  considered  themselves  of  the  utmost  and  most 
mighty  importance,  and  that  every  man  in  Eatanswill,  conscious  of  the 
weight  that  attached  to  his  example,  felt  himself  bound  to  unite,  heart 
and  soul,  wiih  one  of  the  two  great  parties  that  divided  the  town — the 
Biucs  and  the  Buffs.  Now  the  Blues  lost  no  opportunity  of  opposing 
the  BuHrf,  and  the  BulTs  lost  no  opportunity  of  opposing  the  Blues  ;  and 
the  consequence  was,  that  whenever  the  Buffs  and  Blues  met  together 
at  public  meeting,  town-hall,  fair  or  market,  disputes  and  high  words 
arose  between  them.  With  these  dissensions  it  is  almost  superfluous 
to  say  that  every  thing  in  Eatanswill  was  made  a  party  question.  If 
the  Bufls  proposed  to  new  sky-light  the  market-place,  the  Blues  got  up 
public  meetings  and  denounced  the  proceeding  ;  if  the  Blues  proposed 
the  erection  of  an  additional  pump  in  the  Aigh  Street,  the  Buffs  arose 
as  one  man  and  stood  aghast  at  the  enormity.  There  were  Bine  shops 
and  Buff  shops,  Ulue  inns  and  Buff  inns  ; — ^there  was  a  Blue  aisle 
and  a  Buff  aisle,  in  the  very  church  itself 

Of  course  it  was  essentially  and  indispensably  necessary  that  each 
of  these  powerful  parties  should  have  its  chosen  organ  and  representa- 
tive :  and,  accordingly,  there  were  two  newspapers  in  the  town — the 
Eatanswill  Gazette  and  the  Eatanswill  Independent ;  the  former  ad- 
vocating Blue  principles,  and  the  latter  conducted  on  grounds  decidedly 
Buff  Fine  newspapers  they  were.  .Such  leading  articles,  and  such 
spinted  attacks  ! — "  Our  worthless  contemporary  the  Gazette" — "  That 
disgraceful  and  dastardly  journal,  the  Independent" — "That  false  and 
scurrilous  print,  the  Independent" — "  That  vile  and  slanderous  calum- 
niator, the  Gazette;" — these  and  other  spirit-stirring  denunciations 
were  strewn  plentifully  over  the  columns  of  each,  in  every  number,  and 
excited  feelings  of  the  most  intense  delight  and  indignation  in  the  bo- 
soms of  the  townspeople. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  with  his  usual  foresight  and  sagacity,  had  chosen  a 
peculiarly  desirable  moment  for  his  visit  to  the  borough.  Never  wa.s 
such  a  contest  known.  The  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey 
Hall,  was  the  Blue  candidate  ;  and  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esq.,  of  Fizkin 
Lodge,  near  Eatanswill,  had  been  prevailed  upon  by  his  friends  to 
stand  forward  on  the  Buff  interest.  The  Gazette  warned  the  electors 
of  Eatanswill  that  the  eyes  not  only  of  England,  but  of  the  whole 
civilized  world,  were  upon  them  ;  and  the  Independent  imperatively 
demanded  to  know,  whether  the  constituency  of  Eatanswill  were  the 
grand  fellows  they  had  al\yays  taken  them  for,  or  base  and  servile 
tools,  undeserving  alike  of  the  name  of  Englishmen  and  the.blessings 
of  freedom.     Never  had  such  a  commotion  agitated  the  town  before. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  companions, 
assisted  by  Sam,  dismoujited  from  the  roof  of  the  Eatanswill  coach. 
Large  blue  silk  flags  were  flying  from  the  windows  of  the  Town  Arms 
Inn,  and  bills  were  posted  in  every  sash,  intimating,  in  gigantic  letters, 
that  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey's  Committee  sat  there  d^ily.  A 
crowd  of  idlers  were  assembled  in  the  road,  looking  at  a  hoarse  man  in 
a  balcony,  who  was  apparently  talking  himself  very  red  in  the  face  in 
Mr.  Slumkey's  behalf;  but  the  force  and  point  of  whose  arguments 
were  impaired  by  the  perpetual  beating  of  four  large  drums  which  Mr. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLDB.  123 

Fizkin's  committee  liad  stationed  at  the  street  corner.  There  was  a 
busy  little  man  beside  him,  thouj/h.  who  took  off  his  hat  at  intervals 
and  motioned  to  the  people  to  cheer,  which  they  re;^ularly  did,  most 
enthusiastically  ;  and  as  the  red-faced  gentleman  went  on  talking  till 
he  was  redder  in  the  face  than  ever,  it  seemed  to  answer  his  purpose 
quite  as  well  cis  if  any  body  had  heard  him. 

The  Pickwickians  had  no  sooner  dismounted,  than  they  were  sur- 
rounded by  a  branch  moh  of  the  honest  and  independent,  who  forth- 
with set  up  three  di-afening  cheers,  which  being  responded  to  by  the 
main  b<jdy  (for  it's  not  at  all  necessary  for  a  crowd  to  know  what  thej 
are  cheering  about)  swelled  into  a  tremendous  roar  of  triumph,  which 
stopped  even  the  red-faced  man  in  the  balcony. 

"Hurrah?"  shouted  the  mob  in  conclusion. 

*•  One  cbeer  more,"  screamed  the  littk'  fugleman  in  the  balcony  ;  and 
out  shouted  the  mob  again,  as  if  lungs  were  cast  iron  with  steel  works. 

*'  Slumkcy  forever  I"  roared  the  honest  and  independent. 

•*Slunikey  for  ever!"  ech(»ed  .Mr.  Pickwick,  taking  off  his  hat. 
'No  Fizkin,"  roared  the  crowd. 

"  Certainly  not,"  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Hurrah  I"  And  then  there  was  another  roarincr,  like  that  of  a 
whole  menagerie  when  the  elephant  has  rung  the  bell  for  the  cold  meat. 

"  Who  is  61umkey  V  whispered  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  same  tone.  "  Hush. 
Don't  cisk  any  questions.  It's  always  best  on  these  occasions  to  do 
what  the  mob  do." 

'•  But  suppose  there  are  tw'o  mobs!"  suggested  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Shout  with  the  largest,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Volumes  could  not  have  said  more. 

They  entered  the  house,  the  crowd  opening  right  and  left  to  let  them 
pass,  and  cheering  vociferously.  The  first  object  of  consideration  wa^ 
to  secure  quarters  for  the  night. 

''  Can  we  have  beds  here  I"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  summoning  the 
waiter. 

"  Don't  know,  sir,''  replied  the  man  ;  ♦■  afraid  we're  full,  sir — I'll 
inquire,  sir.''  Away  he  went  for  that  purpose,  and  presently  returned 
to  ask  whether  the  gentlemen  were  "  Blue." 

As  neither  .Mr.  Pickwick  nor  his  companions  took  any  vital  interest  in 
the  cause  of  either  candidate,  the  question  was  rather  a  diJHcult  one  to 
answer.  In  this  dilemmse,  Mr.  Pickwick  bethought  himself  of  his  new 
friend,  Mr.  Perker. 

'•  Do  you  know  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Mr.  Perker  ?"  inquired 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"('ertainly,  sir  :  honourable  Mr.  Samuel  Slumkev's  agent." 

"He  ifi  Blue,  I  think!' 

"  Oh  yes,  sir." 

•'Then  we  are  Blue,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  but  observing  that  the 
man  looked  rather  doubtful  at  this  accommodating  announcement,  he 
gave  him  his  card,  and  desired  him  to  present  it  to  Mr.  Perker  forth- 
with, if  he  should  happen  to  be  in  the  house.  The  waiter  returned 
almost  immediately,  with  a  rpque.-,t  that  Mr.  Pickwick  would  follow  hiru, 
and  led  the  way  to  a  larce  room  on  the  first  floor,  where,  seated  at  a 
long  tabk  covered  with  books  and  papers,  was  Mr.  Perker. 

"'Ah — ah,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  little  man,  advancins;  to  meet  him  ; 
"very  happy  to  see  you,  my  dear  sir,  very.     Pray  «il  down.     So  you 


124  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

have  carried  your  intention  into  efiect.  You  haye  come  down  here  to 
see  an  election — eh  V 

Mr.  Pickwick  replied  in  the  aflirmative. 

"  Spirited  con  lest,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  Uttle  man. 

"I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rubbing  his  hands  : 
*'I  like  to  see  sturdy  patriotism,  on  whatever  side  it  is  called  forth  ;  — 
and  so  it's  a  spirited  contest  1" 

"Oh  \cs,''  said  the  little  man,  "very  much  po  indeed.  We  have 
opened  all  the  public  houses  in  the  place,  and  left  our  adversary  nothing 
hut  the  beer-shops — masterly  stroke  of  policy  that,  my  dear  sir,  eh  !" — 
and  the  little  man  smiled  complacently,  cind  took  a  large  pinch  of  snuff. 

''And  what  are  the  probabilities  as  to  the  result  of  the  contest ]"" 
inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Why  doubifal,  my  dear  sir  ;  rather  doubtful  as  yet,"'  repKed  the 
little  man.  "  Fizkin's  people  have  got  three-and-thirty  voters  in  the 
lock-up  coach-house  at  the  V,'hite  Hart.*' 

"  In  the  coach-house  !"'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  considerably  astonished 
hy  this  second  stroke  of  policy. 

"  They  keep  'era  locked  up  there,  till  they  want  'em,"  resumed  the 
Hitle  man.  "  The  etfect  of  that  is,  you  see,  to  prevent  our  getting  at 
them  ;  and  even  if  we  could,  it  would  be  of  no  use,  for  they  keep  them 
very  drunk  on  purpose.  Smart  fellow  Fizkin's  agent — very  smart 
fellow  indeed  '' 

Mr.  Pickwick  stared,  but  said  nothing. 

"  We  are  pretty  confident,  though,"  said  Mr.  Perker,  sinking  his 
voice  almost  to  a  whisper.  '■'  We  had  a  little  tea-party  here,  last  night 
— five-and-forty  women,  my  dear  sir — and  gave  every  one  of  'em  a 
green  parasol  when  they  weni  away." 

•'  A  parasol  I"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Fact,  my  dear  sir,  fact.  Five-and-forty  green  parasols,  at  seven 
and  six-pence  apiece.  AH  women  like  finery — extraordinary  the 
eiTect  of  those  parasol-;.  Secured  all  their  husbands,  and  half  their 
brothers — beats  stockings,  and  flannel,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  hollow. 
My  idea,  my  dear  sir,  entirely.  Hail,  rain,  or  sunsliine,  you  can't  walk 
half  a  dozen  yards  up  the  streets,  without  encountering  half  a-dozen 
green  parasols." 

Here  the  little  man  indulged  in  a  convulsion  of  mirth,  which  was 
only  checked  by  the  entrance  of  a  third  party. 

This  was  a  tall,  thin  man,  with  a  sandy  coloured  head  inclined  to 
baldness,  and  a  face  in  which  solemn  importance  was  blended  with  a 
look  of  unfathomable  profundity.  He  was  dressed  in  a  long  brown 
surtout,  with  a  black  cloth  waistcoat,  and  drab  trousers.  A  double 
eye-glass  dangled  at  his  waistcoat :  and  on  his  head  he  wore  a  very 
tow-crowned  hat  with  a  broad  brim.  The  new  comer  was  introduced 
to  Mr.  Pickwick  as  Mr.  Pott,  tlie  editor  of  the  F.atanswill  Gazette. 
After  a  few  preliminary  remarks,  Mr.  Pott  turned  round  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, and  said  with  solemnity — 

"  This  contest  excites  great  interest  in  the  metropolis,  sir?" 

♦'  I  believe  it  does,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  To  which  I  have  reason  to  know,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  looking  towards 
Mr.  Perker  for  coirobaration,— "  to  which  I  have  reason  to  know  ray 
article  of  last  Saturday  in  some  degree  contributed." 

'■'  Not  the  least  doubt  of  that,"  said  the  little  man. 

"  The  press  is  a  mighty  QaginCi  sir,"  said  Pott. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLDB.  125 

Mr.  Pickwick  yirlded  his  fullest  assent  to  the  propositiun. 

*'  But  I  trust,  sir,"  said  Pott,  "  thjt  I  have  never  abused  the  en<  r- 
tnous  power  I  wields  I  trust,  sir,  that  I  have  never  pointed  the  noble 
instrument  which  is  placed  in  my  hands,  against  the  sacred  bosom  of 
private  life,  or  the  tender  breast  of  individual  reputation  ; — I  trusi,  sir, 
that  I  have  devoted  my  energies  to — to  endeavours — humble  they  may 
be,  humble  I  know  they  are — to  instil  those  principles  of — which — 
are — " 

Here  the  editor  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette  appearing  to  ramble,  Mr. 
Pickwick  came  to  his  relief,  and  said — 

"  Certainly." 

"  And  what,  sir" — &aid  Pott — '*  what,  sir,  let  me  ask  you  as  an  impar- 
tial man,  is  the  state  of  the  public  mind  in  London,  with  reference  to 
my  contest  with  the  Independent?" 

"  Greatly  excited,  no  doubt,"'  interposed  Mr.  Perker,  with  a  look  of 
slyness  which  was  very  likely  accidental. 

'♦'  That  contest,"  said  Pott,  "  shall  be  prolonged  so  long  as  I  have 
health  and  strength,  and  that  portion  of  talent  with  which  I  am  gifted. 
From  that  contest,  sir,  although  it  may  unsettle  men's  minds  and  e.v- 
cite  their  feelings,  and  render  them  incapable  for  the  discliarge  of  the 
every-day  duties  of  ordinary  life  ;  from  that  contest,  sir,  I  will  never 
shrink,  till  I  have  set  my  heel  upon  the  Eatanswill  Independent.  I 
wish  the  people  of  London  and  the  people  of  this  country  to  know,  sir, 
that  they  may  rely  upon  me  ; — that  I  will  not  desert  them,  that  I  am 
resolved  to  stand  by  them,  sir,  to  the  last." 

"Your  conduct  is  most  noble,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  and  he 
grasped  the  hand  of  the  magnanimous  Pott. 

<'  You  are,  sir,  I  perceive,  a  man  of  sense  and  talent,"  said  Mr.  Pott, 
almost  breathless  with  the  vehemenco  of  his  patriotic  declaration.  ''  I 
am  most  happy,  sir,  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  such  a  man.'' 

"  And  I,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  feel  deeply  honoured  by  this  ex- 
pression of  your  opinion.  Allow  me,  sir,  to  introduce  you  to  my 
fellow-travellers,  the  other  corresponding  members  of  the  club  I  am 
proud  to  have  founded." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  said  Mr.  Pott. 

Mr.  Pickwick  withdrew,  and  returning  with  his  three  friends,  pre- 
sented them  in  due  form  to  the  editor  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette. 

"  Now,  my  dear  Pott,"  said  little  Mr.  Perker,  *'  the  question  is,  what 
are  we  to  do  with  our  friends  here  ]" 

"  We  can  stop  in  this  house,  I  suppose,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Not  3  spare  bed  in  the  house,  my  dear  sir — not  a  single  bed." 

*'  Extremely  awkward,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Very,"  said  his  fellow-voyagers. 

*'  I  have  an  idea  upon  this  subject,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  •«  which  I  think 
may  be  very  successfully  adopted.  They  have  two  beds  at  the  Pea- 
cock, and  I  can  boldly  say,  on  behalf  of  Mrs.  Pott,  that  she  will  be  de- 
lighted toaccoinniodatc  Mr.  Pickwick  and  any  one  of  his  friends,  if  the 
other  two  gentlemen  and  their  servant  do  not  object  to  shifting,  as  they 
best  can,  at  the  Peacock." 

After  repeated  pressing  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Pott,  and  repeated  pro- 
testations on  that  of  Mr.  Pickwick  that  he  could  not  think  of  incom- 
moding or  troubling  his  amiable  wife,  it  was  decided  that  this  was  the 
only  feasible  arrangement  that  could  be  made.  So  it  was  made  ;  and 
after  dining  together  at  the  Town  Arms,  the  fricndf?  separated,  Mr. 
11* 


126  POSTHUMOUS  PAPi:n3  or 

Tupma?i  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  repairing  to  the  Peacich,  and  Mr.  Winkle 
proceeding  to  the  mansion  of  Mr.  Pott ;  it  having  been  previously  ar- 
ranged tliat  they  i:iiould  all  re-assemble  at  the  Town  Arms  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  accompany  the  honourable  SanMjel  Slumkey's  procession  to 
the  place  of  nomination. 

"  Mr.  Pott's  domestjc  circle  was  limited  to  himself  and  his  wife.  All 
men  whom  mighty  genius  has  raised  to  a  proud  eminence  in  the  world, 
have  usually  some  little  weakness  which  appears  the  more  conspicuous 
from  the  contrast  it  presents  to  their  general  character.  If  Mr.  Pott 
had  a  weakness,  it  was,  perhaps,  that  he  w as  rather  too  submissive  to 
the  somewhat  control  and  sway  of  his  wife.  We  do  not  feel  justified 
in  laying  any  particular  stress  upon  the  fact,  because  on  the  present 
occasion  all  Mrs.  Pott'^  most  winning  ways  were  brought  into  requisi- 
tion to  receive  the  two  gentlemen. 

"My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  "Mr.  Pickwick — Mr.  Pickwick  of  London." 

Mrs.  Pott  received  Mr.  Pickwick's  paternal  grasp  of  the  hand  with 
enchanting  sweetness  :  and  Mr.  Winkle,  who  had  not  been  announced 
at  all,  sidled  and  bowed  unnoticed,  in  an  obscure  corner. ' 

"  P.  My  dear—"  said  Mrs.  Pott.  * 

"My  life,"  said  Mr.  Pott. 

"Pray,  introduce  the  other  gentleman."' 

"  I  beg  a  thousand  pardons,"  said  Mr.  Pott.  "  Permit  me — 'Mrs. 
Pott,  Mr. " 

"  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Pick^vick. 

•'  Winkle,"  echoed  Mr.  Pott ;  and  the  ceremony  of  introduction  .was 
complete. 

"  We  owe  you  many  apologies,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  for  dis- 
turbing your  domestic  arrangements  at  so  short  a  notice." 

"  I  beg  you  won't  mention  it,  sir,"  replied  the  feminine  Pott,  witlv 
vivacity.  "  It  is  a  high  treat  to  me,  I  assure  you,  to  see  any  new  faces  ; 
living  as  I  do,  from  day  to  day,  and  week  to  week,  in  this  dull  place, 
and  seeing  nobody."  / 

"Nobody,  my  dear!'"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pott,  archly. 

"  Nobody  but  you,'"  retorted  Mrs.  Pott,  with  asperity. 

"You  see,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  the  host  in  explanation  of  his  wife's 
lament,  "  that  we  are  in  some  measure  cut  off  from  many  enjoyments 
and  pleasures  of  which  we  mii^ht  otherwise  partake.  My  public  sta- 
tion, as  editor  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  the  position  which  that  paper 
holds  in  the  country,  my  constant  immersion  in  the  vortex  of  politics — " 

"  P.  my  dear — "  interposed  Mrs.  Pott. 

"  My  life — "  said  the  editor. 

'•  I  wish,  my  dear,  you  would  endeavour  to  find  some  topic  of  con- 
versation in  which  these  gentlemen  might  take  some  rational  interest." 
"  But,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Pott  with  great  humility,  "  Mr.  Pickwick 
does  take  an  interest  in  it." 

*'  It's  well  for  him  if  he  can,"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  emphatically  :  "  I  am 
wearied  out  of  ni}'  life  with  your  politics,  and  quarrels  with  the  Inde- 
pendent, and  nonsense.  I  am  quite  astonished.  P.,  at  your  making 
such  an  exhibition  of  'jur  absurdity." 

♦'  But,  my  dear "  said  Mr.  Pott. 

*'  Oh,  nonsense,  don't  talk  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Pott.  "  Do  you  play 
icarte,  sir "?" 

"  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  learn  under  your  tuition,"  replied  Mr. 
Winkle.  •• 


THE  PICKWICK  C*UB.  127 

"Well,  then,  draw  that  little  table  into  this  window,  and  let  me  get 
out  of  hearing  of 'hose  prosy  politics." 

••Jane,"  said  Mr.  Poll,  to  the  servant  who  brought  in  candles,  "go 
down  inro  the  office,  and  bring  up  the  file  of  the  Gazette  for  Eighteen 
Hundred  and  Twenty-Eight.  I'll  just  read  you — "  added  the  iditor, 
turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I'll  just  read  you  a  few  of  the  icaders  I 
wrote  at  that  time,  upon  the  Buff  job  of  appointing  a  new  tollman  to 
the  turnpike  here  ;  I  rather  think  they'll  amuse  you." 

"  I  should  1  ke  to  hear  them  very  much  indeed,'*  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

L'p  came  the  lile,  and  down  sat  the  editor,  with  Mr.  Pickwick  at  his 
side. 

Vv'e  have  in  vain  pored  over  the  leaves  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  note-book, 
in  the  hope  of  meeting  with  a  general  summary  of  these  beautiful  com- 
positions. We  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  perfectly 
enraptured  with  the  vigour  and  freshness  of  the  style  ;  indeed  Mr. 
Winkle  has  recorded  the  fact  that  his  eyes  were  closed,  as  if  with 
excess  of  pleasure  during  the  whole  time  of  their  perusal. 

The  announcement  of  supper  put  a  otop  both  to  the  g^mie  at  ecarte 
and  the  recapitulation  of  the  beauties  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette.  Mrs. 
Pott  was  in  the  highest  spirits  and  the  most  agreeable  humour.  Mr. 
Winkle  had  already  made  considerable  progress  in  her  good  opinion, 
and  she  did  not  hesitate  to  inform  him.  confidentially,  that  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  "a  delightful  old  dear."'  These  terms  convey  a  familiarity 
of  expression,  in  which  few  of  those  who  were  intimately  acquainted 
with  that  colossal-minded  man,  would  have  presumed  to  indulge.  We 
have  preserved  them,  nevertheless,  as  affording  at  once  a  touching  and 
convincing  proof  of  the  estimation  in  which  he  was  held  by  every  class 
of  society,  and  the  ease  v.ith  which  he  made  to  their  heartsand  feelinjrs. 

It  was  a  late  hour  of  the  night — long  after  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass  had  fallen  asleep  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  Peacock — 
vhcn  the  two  friends  retired  to  rest.  Slumber  soon  fell  upon  the 
sensep  of  Mr.  Winkle,  but  his  feelings  had  been  excited,  and  his  ad.Tii- 
ration  roused  ;  and  for  many  hours  after  sleep  had"  rendered  him 
insensible  to  earthly  objects,  the  face  and  figure  of  the  agreeable  Mrs. 
Pott  presented  themselves  again  and  again  to  his  wandering  imagination. 

The  noise  and  bustle  which  ushered  in  the  moniing.  were  sufricient 
to  dispel  from  the  mind  of  the  most  romantic  visionary  in  existence, 
any -associations  but  those  which  were  immediately  connected  with  the 
rapidly  approaching  election.  The  beating  of  drums,  the  blowing  of 
horns  and  trumpets,  the  shouting  of  men.  and  trampling  of  horses, 
echoed  and  re-echoed  through  the  streets  from  the  earliest  dawn  of 
day  ;  and  an  occasional  fight  between  the  light  skirmishers  of  either 
party,  at  once  enlivened  the  preparations,  and  agreeably  diversified 
their  ch.-iracter. 

"  Well,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  his  valet  appeared  at  his  bed- 
room door,  just  as  he  was  concluding  his  toilet ;  "  all  alive  to-day,  I 
.suppose  V 

"  Reg'lar  game,  sirt"  replied  Mr.  Weller;  *'  our  people's  a  col-lecting 
down  at  the  Town  Arms,  and  they're  a  hollering  themselves  hoars« 
already." 

"Ah,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  '*do  they  seem  devoted  to  their  partv^ 
Sam^" 

"Never  see  such  dewolion  in  my  life,  sir." 

♦♦Energetic,  ehV  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 


128  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

"  Uncommon,"  replied  Sam  ;  "  I  never  see  men  eat  and  drink  so 
much  afore.     I  wonder  they  a'n't  afeer'd  o'  bustin." 

"  That's  the  mistaken  kindness  of  the  gentry  here,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Werry  likely,"  replied  Sam,  briefly. 

"  Fine,  fresh,  hearty  fellows  they  seem,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  g'lancing 
from  the  window. 

"  Werry  fresh,"  replied  Sam  ;  *'  me,  and  the  two  waiters  at  the 
Peacock,  has  been  a  pumpin'  over  the  independent  woters  as  supped 
there  last  night." 

"  Pumping  over  independent  voters  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

•'  Yes,"  said  his  attendant,  "  every  man  slept  vere  he  fell  down  ;  we 
dragged  'em  out,  one  by  one,  this  mornin'  and  put  'em  under  the  pump, 
and  they're  in  reg'lar  fine  order,  now.  Shillin'  a  head  the  committee 
paid  for  that  'ere  job." 

"  Can  such  things  be  !"  exclaimed  the  astonished  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Bless  your  heart,  sir,"  said  Sam,  "  why  where  was  you  half 
baptized  ^ — that's  nothin',  that  a'n't." 

"Nothing?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Nothin'  at  all,  sir,'"  replied  his  attendant.  "  The  night  afore  the 
last  day  o'  the  last  electioii  here,  the  opposite  party  bribed  the  bar-maid 
at  the  Town  Arms,  to  hocus  the  brandy  and  water  of  fourteen  unpolled 
electors  as  was  a  stoppin'  in  the  house." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  * hocussing'  brandy  and  water!"  inquired 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Puttin  laud'num  in  it,"  replied  Sam.  "  Blessed  if  she  didn't  send 
'em  all  to  sleep  till  twelve  hours  arter  the  election  was  over.  They 
took  one  man  up  to  the  booth,  in  a  truck,  fast  asleep,  by  way  of  experi- 
ment, but  it  was  no  go — they  wouldn't  poll  him  ;  so  they  brought  him 
back,  and  put  him  to  bed  again." 

"  Strange  practices,  these,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  half  speaking  to  him- 
self, and  half  addressing  Sam.    ■ 

"  Not  a  half  so  strange  as  a  miraculous  circumstance  as  happened  to 
my  own  father,  at  an  election-time,  in  this  werry  place,  sir,"  replied 
Sam. 

*'  What  was  that  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Why  he  drove  a  coach  down  here  once,"  said  Sara  ;  **  'Lection 
time  came  on,  and  was  engaged  by  vun  party  to  bring  down  woters 
from  Jjondon.  Night  afore  he  was  a  going  to  drive  up,  committee  on 
t'other  side  sends  for  him  quietly,  and  away  he  goes  vith  the  messenger, 
who  shows  him  in  ; — large  room — lots  of  gen'l'm'n — heaps  of  papers, 
pens,  and  ink,  aruJ  all  that  'ere.  '  Ah,  Mr.  Weller,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n 
in  the  chair,  'glad  to  see  you,  sir,  how  are  you?' — 'Werry  well, 
thank'ee,  sir,'  says  my  father ;  '  I  hope  you're  pretty  middlin,'  says  he — 
'  Pretty  well,  thank'ee,  sir,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n  ;  '  sit  down.  Mr.  Weller 
—pray  sit,  down,  sir.'  So  my  father  sits  down,  and  he  and  the  gen'l'm'n 
looks  werry  hard  at  each  other.  '  You  don't  remember  me  V  says  the 
gen'l'm'n  ? — '  Can't  say  I  do,'  says  my  father — '  Oh,  I  know  you,'  says 
the  gen'l'm'n  ;  know'd  you  ven  you  was  a  boy,'  says  he — '  Well,  I 
don't  remember  you,'  says  my  father. — '  That's  werry  odd,'  says  the 
gen'l'm'n — '  Werry,'  says  my  father — '  You  must  have  a  bad  mem'ry, 
Mr.  Weller,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n — '  Well,  it  is  a  werry  bad  'un,'  says  my 
father — '  I  thought  so,'  says  the  gen'l'm'n.  So  then  they  pours  him 
out  a  glass  o'  wine,  and  gammons  him  about  his  driving,  and  gets  him 
into  a  reg'lar  good  humonr,  and  at  last  shoves  a  twenty  pound  note  in 


THE  PICUWICiC  CLUB.  129 

his  hand.  '  It's  a  werry  bad  road  between  this  and  London,'  says  the 
genTm'n — 'Here  and  there  it  is  a  werry  heavy  road,'  says  my  father — 
'  'Specially  near  the  canal,  I  think,'  says  tiie  genTm'n — '  Na'stv  bit. 
that  'ere,'  says  ray  father — '  Weil,  Mr.  Weiler,'  says  the  genTm'n, 
'you're  a  werry  good  whip,  and  can  do  what  you  like  v.ith  your  horses, 
we  know.  We're  all  werry  fond  o'  you,  Mr.  Weiler,  so  in  case  you 
should  have  an  accident  when  you're  a  bringing  thet^  here  woters 
down,  and  should  tip  'em  over  into  the  canal  vilhout  hurtin'  'em,  this 
is  for  yourself,'  says  be — '  GenTm'n,  yna're  werry  kind,'  says  my 
father,  '  and  111  drink  your  health  in  another  g!a.«!s  of  wine,'  says  he  ; 
vich  he  did,  and  then  buttons  up  the  noncy.  and  bows  himseif nut. 
You  vou'dn't  believe,  sir,"  cimtinued  Sam,  wiih  a  look  of  inexpressible 
impudence  at  his  master,  ♦'  that  on  the  werry  day  as  he  came  down 
with  them  woters,  his  coach  icas  upset  on  that  'ere  werry  spot,  and 
ev'ry  man  on  'em, was  turned  into  the  canal.'' 

"And  got  out  again?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily 

"Why,"  replied  Sim,  very  slowly, •••  I  rather  think  one  old  gentle- 
man was  missin' ;  I  know  his  hat  was  found,  but  I  aVi't  quite  certain 
■  liether  his  head  was  in  it  or  not.  But  what  I  look  at,  is  the  he.t  tra- 
:di:)ary,  and  w(-nderful  coincidence,  that  arter  what  that  geu'l'm'n 
said  my  father's  coach  should  be  upset  in  that  werry  place,  and  on  that 
v.erry  day  I"  .  • 

'*  It  is,  no  doubt,  a  very  extraordinary  circumstance  indeed,"  said 
Mr.  Pickwick.  "  But  brush  my  hat,  Sam,  for  1  hear  Mr.  Winkle  call- 
ing me  to  breakfast." 

Witli  these  words  Mr.  Pickwick  descended  to  the  parlour,  where  he 
found  breakfast  laid  and  the  family  already  assembled.  The  mcdl  was 
hastily  despatched  ;  each  of  the  j/entlemen's  hats  was  decorat«^d  with 
an  enormou.^  blue  favour,  made  up  by  the  fair  hand.s  of  Mrs.  Pott  her- 
self, and  as  Mr.  Winkle  had  undertaken  to  escort  that  lady  to  a  !)f)n£e- 
top,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  hosting,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  .Mr. 
Pott  repaired  alone  to  the  Town  Arms,  from  the  back  window  of  wljich, 
one  of  Mr  Slumkey's  committee  was  addressing  si.x  small  boys  and 
one  girl,  whom  he  dignified,  at  every  second  sentence,  with  the  impos- 
ing title  of  "  men  of  Eatanswill,"  whereat  the  six  small  boys  aforesaid 
cheered  prodigiously. 

The  stable-yard  exhibited  unequivocal  symptoms  of  the  glory  and 
stu'ngth  of  the  Eatanswill  Blues.  There  was  a  regular  army  of  blue 
flags,  some  with  one  handle,  and  some  with  two,  exhibiting  appro|'ri- 
ate  devices,  in  goKlen  characters  four  feet  hii/h,  and  stout  in  proportion. 
There  was  a  grand  band  of  trumpets,  bassoons  and  drums,  marshalled 
four  abreast,  and  earning  their  money,  if  ever  man  did,  especially  the 
drum  beaters,  who  were  very  muscular.  There  were  bodies  of  con- 
Btabios  with  blue  staves,  twenty  cornmittee-mcn  with  blue  .s::3rt>,  and 
a  mob  of  voters  with  blue  cockades.  There  were  electors  on  horse- 
back, and  electors  afoot.  Thrre  was  an  open  carriage  and  four,  for 
the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  ;  and  there  were  four  carriaqes  and 
pair,  for  his  friends  and  supporters:  and  the  flags  were  rustiinj,  and 
the  band  was  playing,  and  the  constables  were  swearing,  and  the  twenty 
conmiittee-men  were  squabbling,  and  the  mob  were  shouting,  and  the 
hoises  were  backing,  and  the  post-boys  perspiring ;  and  everv  body 
and  every  thing,  then  and  there  assembled,  was  for  the  sticcial  use. 
behoof,  honour,  and  renown  of  the  honourable  Samuel  Slufuk»'y,  of 
Slumkey  Hall,  one  of  the  candidates  for  the  representation  of  the 


130  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

borough  of  Eatanswill,  in  the  Commons  House  of  Parliament  of  tlie 
United  Kingdom. 

Loud  and  long  were  the  cheers,  and  mighty  was  the  rustling  of  one 
of  the  blue  flags,  with  "  Liberty  of  the  Press"  inscribed  thereon,  when 
the  sandy  head  o(  Mr.  Pott  was  discerned  in  one  of  the  windows,  by 
the  mob  beneath;  and  tremendous  was  the  enthusiasm  when  the 
honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  himself,  in  top-boots,  and  a  blue  necker- 
chief, advanced  and  seized  the  hand  of  the  said  Pott,  and  melo-drama- 
tically  testified  by  gestures  to  the  crowd,  his  ineffaceable  obligations  to 
the  Eatanswill  Gazette. 

"Is  everything  ready  1"  said  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  to 
Mr.  Perker. 

"  Every  thing,  my  dear  sir,"  was  the  little  man's  reply. 

"  Nothing  has  been  omitted,  I  hope,"  said  the  honourable  Samuel 
Slumkey. 

''  Nothing  has  been  left  undone,  my  dear  sir — nothing  whatever. — 
There  are  twenty  washed  men  at  the  street  door  for  you  to  shake  hands 
with  ;  and  six  children  in  arms  that  you're  to  pat  on  the  head,  and 
inquire  the  age  of;  be  particular  about  the  children,  my  dear  sir — it 
has  always  a  great  effect,  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  I'll  take  care,"  said  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey. 

"  And,  perhaps,  my  dear  sir — "  said  the  cautious  little  man,  "  per- 
haps if  you  could — I  don't  mean  to  say  it's  indispensable — but  if  you 
co?dd  manage  to  kiss  one  of  'em,  it  would  produce  a  very  great  impres- 
sion on  the  crowd." 

"  Wouldn't  it  havg  as  good  an  effect  if  the  proposer  or  seconder  did 
that?"  said  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey. 

•'  Why,  I  am  afraid  it  wouldn't,"  replied  the  agent ;  "  if  it  were  done 
by  yourself,  my  dear  sir,  I  think  it  would  make  you  very  popular." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  with  a  resigned 
air,  "then  it  must  be  done.     That's'all." 

"Arrange  the  procession,"  cried  the  twenty  committee-men. 

Amidst  the  cheers  of  the  assembled  throng,  the  band,  and  the  con- 
stables, and  the  committee-men,  and  the  voters,  and  the  horsemen,  and 
the  carriages,  took  their  places — each  of  the  two-horse  vehicles  being 
closely  packed  with  as  many  gentlemen  as  could  manage  to  stand  up- 
right init ;  and  that  assigned  to  Mr.  Perker,  containing  Mr.  Pickwick, 
Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  about  half-a-dozen  of  the  committee 
bodies. 

There  was  a  moment  of  awful  suspense  as  the  procession  waited  for 
the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  to  step  into  his  carriage.  Suddenly 
the  crowd  set  up  a  great  cheering. 

•'  He  has  come  out,"  said  little  Mr.  Perker,  greatly  excited  ;  the  more 
so  as  their  position  did  not  enable  them  to  see  what  was  going  forward. 

Another  cheer,  much  louder. 

"  He  has  shaken  hands  with  the  men,"  cried  the  little  agent. 

Another  cheer,  far  more  vehement. 

•'  He  has  patted  the  babes  on  the  head,"  said  Mr.  Perker,  trembling 
with  anxiety. 

A  roar  of  applause  that  rent  the  air. 

"  He  has  kissed  one  of  'em  I"  exclaimed  the  delighted  little  man, 

A  second  roar. 

"  He  has  kissed  another,"  gasped  the  excited  manager. 

A  third  roar. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLCB.  131 

"He's  kissing  'em  all  I"  gcreamed  the  enthusiastic  little  gentleman. 
And  hailed  by  the  deafening  shouts  of  the  multitude,  the  procession 
moved  on. 

How  or  by  what  means  it  became  mixed  up  with  the  other  proces- 
sion, and  how  it  was  ever  extricated  from  the  confusion  consequent 
thereupon,  is  more  than  we  can  undertake  to  describe,  inasmuch  as  .Mr. 
Pickwick's  hat  was  knocked  over  his  eyes,  nose,  and  mouth,  by  one 
poke  of  a  Buif  flag-staff,  very  early  in  the  proceedings.  He  describes 
iiimtelf  a.s  bping  surrounded  on  every  side,  when  he  could  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  scene,  by  angry  and  ferocious  countenances,  by  a  vast 
cloud  of  dust,  and  by  a  dense  crowd  of  combatants.  He  rejtresents 
liiraself  as  being  forced  from  the  carriage  by  some  unseen  power,  and 
being  personally  engaged  in  a  pugilistic  encounter ;  but  with  whom,  or 
how,  or  why;  he  is  wholly  unable  to  state.  He  then  felt  himself  lorced 
up  some  wooden  steps  by  the  persons  from  behind  :  and  on  removing 
his  hat,  frjund  himself  surrounded  by  his  friends,  in  the  very  front  ot 
the  left  hand  side  of  the  hustings.  The  right  was  reserved  for  the 
Buff  party,  and  the  centre  for  the  mayor  and  his  officers — one  of  whom 
— the  fat  crier  of  Eatanswill — was  ringing  an  enormous  bell,  by  wav 
of  commanding  silence,  while  .Mr.  Horatio  Fizkin,  and  the  honourable 
Samuel  Slumkey,  with  -heir  hands  upon  their  hearts,  were  bowing 
with  the  utmost  affability  to  the  troubled  sea  of  heads  that  inundated 
the  open  space  in  front ;  and  from  whence  arose  a  storm  of  grroans, 
and  shouts,  and  yeils,  and  hootings,  that  would  have  done  honour  to 
an  earthquake. 

"  There's  Winkle,"  said  Mr.Tupman,  pulling  his  friend  by  the  sleeve. 

"  Where  V  said  Mr.  Pi  k wick,  putting  on  his  spectacles,  which  he 
had  fortunately  kept  in  his  pocket  hitherto. 

"  There,"  said  .Mr.  Tupman,  '*  on  the  top  of  that  house.''  And  there 
sure  enough,  in  the  leaden  gutter  of  a  tiled  roof,  were  .Mr. Winkle  and 
^\Irs.  Pott,  comfortably  seated  in  a  couple  of  chairs,  waving  their  hand- 
kerchiefs in  token  of  recognitiun — a  compliment  which  Mr.  Pickwick 
returned  by  kissing  his  hand  to  tht|  lady. 

The  proceedings  had  not  yet  comnjenced  ;  and  as  an  inactive  crowd 
is  generally  disposed  to  be  jocose,  this  very  innocent  action  was  sutS- 
cient  to  awaken  their  facetiousness. 

"  Oh  you  wicked  old  rascal,''  cried  one  voice,  *'  looking  artcr  the 
girl.s,  are  you  !'' 

'•  Oh  !  you  wenerable  sinner  !"  cried  another. 

"  Putting  on  his  spectacles  to  look  at  a  married  'ooman  I"'  said  a  third. 

*'  I  see  him  a  vinkin'  at  her,  with  his  vicked  old  eye,"  shouted  a  fourth. 

'•  Look  arter  your  wife,  Pott,"  bellowed  a  fifth  ; — and  then  there  waa 
a  roar  of  laughter. 

As  these  taunts  were  accompanied  with  invidious  comparisons  between 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  an  aged  ram,' and  several  witticisms  of  the  like  na- 
ture ;  and  as  they  moreover  rather  tended  to  convey  reflections  upon 
the  honour  of  an  innocent  lady,  Mr.  Pickwick's  indignation  was  ex- 
cessive ;  but  as  silence  was  proclaimed  at  the  moment,  he  contented 
himself  by  scorching  the  mob  with  a  look  of  pity  for  their  misguided 
minds,  at  which  they  lau^ihed  more  boiisterously  than  ever 

"  Silence,"  roared  the  mayor's  attendants. 

''  Whiffin,  proclaim  silence,"  said  the  mayor,  with  an  air  of  pomp 
befitting  his  lofty  station.    In  obedience  to  this  command  the  crier  per- 


132  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

formed  another  concerto  on  the  hell,  whereupon  a  orenllcman  in  the 
crowd  called  out  muffins,  which  occasioned  another  lau^h. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  mayor,  at  as  loud  a  pitch  as  he  could  possi- 
bly force  his  voice  to,  "  Cientlemen.  Brother  electors  of  tlie  boroutrh 
of  Eatanswill.  We  are  met  here  to-day  for  the  purpose  of  choosin"' 
a  representative  in  the  room  of  our  late " 

Here  the  ma3'or  was  interrupted  l\y  a  voice  in  the  crowd. 

"  Suc-cess  to  the  mayor  !"  cried  the  voice,  "and  may  he  never  desert 
the  nail  and  sarspan  business,  as  he  <rot  his  money  by."  ^ 

This  allusion  to  the  prolfssional  pursuits  of  the  orator  was  received 
wilh  a  storm  of  df^light,  which,  with  a  boll-accompaniment,  rendered 
the  remainder  of  his  s[)<'ech  inaudible,  with  the  exception  of  the  con- 
cludinsj  sentence,  in  which  ho  thanked  the  meeting  for  the  patient 
attention  with  which  they  had  heard  him  throughout, — an  expression 
of  gratitude  wliich  elicited  another  burst  of  mirth,  of  about  a  quarter  of 
an  hour's  duration. 

Next,  a  tall  thing  gentleman,  in  a  very  stiff  white  neckerchief,  after 
being  repeatedly  desired  by  the  crowd  to  "  send  a  boy  home,  to  ask 
whether  he  hadn't  left  his  woice  under  the  pillow,"  begned  tonominntc 
a  fit  and  proper  person  to  represent  them  in  Parliament.  And  when 
he  said  it  was  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizldn  Lodge,  near  Eatan- 
swill, the  Fizkinitcs  applauded  and  the  Slumkeyites  groaned,  so  long, 
and  so  loudly,  that  both  he  and  the  seconder  mi<fht  have  aung  comic 
songs  in  lieu  of  speaking  without  any  body's  bring  a  bit  the  wiser. 

The  friends  of  Horatio  Fizkin,  Enquire,  having  had  their  inninsis,  a 
little  choleric,, pink-faced  man  stood  forward  to  propose  ar other  fit  and 
proper  person  to  represent  the  electors  of  Eatanswill  in  Parliament  ; 
and  very  swimmingly  the  pink-faced  gentleman  would  have  got  on,  if 
he  had  not  been  rather  too  choleric  to  entertain  a  sufficient  percejit'on 
of  the  fun  of  the  crowd.  But  after  a  very  few  sentences  of  figurative 
eloquence,  the  pink-faced  gentleman  got  from  denouncing  those  who 
interrupted  him  in  the  mob,  to  exchanging  defiances  with  the  gentlemen 
on  the  hustings;  whereupon  arose  an  uproar  which  reduced  him  to 
the  necessity  of  expressing  his  feelings  by  serious  pantomime,  whioJi 
he  did,  and  then  left  the  stage  to  his  seconder,  who  delivered  a  written 
speech  of  half-an-iiour's  length,  and  wouldn't  be  stopped,  because  he 
had  sent  it  all  to  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  and  the  Eatanswill  Gazette 
had  printed  it,  every  word. 

Then  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  near  Eatanswill, 
presented  him.self  for  the  purpose  of  addressing  the  electors  ;  which  he 
no  sooner  did,  than  the  band  employed  by  the  honour4l>le  Spmuel 
Slumkey  commenced  performing,  with  a  power  to  which  their  strength 
in  the  morning  was  a  trifle ;  in  return  for  which,  the  Buff  crowd  be- 
laboured the  head  and  .shoulders  of  the  Blue  crowd  ;  on  which,  the 
Blue  crowd  endeavoured  to  dispossess  themselves  of  their  very  Un- 
pleasant neighbours  the  Buff  crowd  ;  and  a  scene  ©f  struggling,  and 
pushing,  and  fighting  succeeded,  to  which  we  can. no  more  do  justice 
than  the  Mayor  could,  although  he  issued  impcrati%'e  orders  to  twelve 
constables  to  seize  the  ringleaders,  who  niight  amount  in  number  to 
two  hundred  and  fifty,  or  thereabouts.  At  all  these  encounters  Horatio 
Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  and  his  friends,  waxed  fierce  and 
furious  ;  until  at  last  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  begged 
to  ask  his  opponent,  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall, 
whcthT  that  band  played  hj  his  consent ;  wliich  question  the  honour- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLCB.  133 

aWc  Samuel  Slumkey  (Teclining  to  answer,  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of 
Fizkin  Lodge,  shook  his  fist  in  the  countenance  of  the  honourable 
Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall,  upon  which  the  honourable  Samuel 
Slumkey,  his  blood  being  up,  defied  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  to  mortal 
combat.  At  this  violation  of  all  known  rules  and  precedents  of  order, 
the  Mayor  commanded  another  fantasia  on  the  bell,  and  declared  that 
he  would  bung  before  himself,  both  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  of  Fizkin 
Lodge,  and  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall,  and 
bind  fhem  over  to  keep  the  peace.  Upon  this  terrific  denunciation,  the 
supporters  of  the  two  candidates  interfered,  and  after  the  friends  of 
each  party  had  quarrelled  in  pairs  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour, 
Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  touched  his  hat  to  the  honourable  Samuel 
Slumkey  :  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey  touched  his  to  Horatio 
Fizkin,  Esquire:  the  band  was  stopped,  the  crowd  were  partially 
quieted,  and  Horatio  Fizkin,  Esquire,  was  permitted  to  proceed. 

The  speeches  of  the  two  candidates,  though  diifering  in  every  ot^er 
respect,  afibrded  a  beautiful  tribute  to  the  merit  and  high  worth  of  the 
electors  of  Eatanswill.  Each  expressed  his  opinion  that  a  more 
independent,  a  more  enlightened,  a  more  public-spirited,  a  more  noble- 
minded,  a  more  disinterested  set  of  men  than  those  who  had  promised 
to  vote  for  him,  never  existed  on  earth  ;  each  darkly  hinted  his  suspi- 
cions that  the  electorsln  the  opposite  interest  had  certain  swinish  and 
besotted  infuToities,  which  rendered  them  unfit  for  the  exercise  of  the 
important  duties  they  were  called  upon  to  discharge.  Fizkin  expressed 
his  readiness  to  do  any  thing  he  was  wanted  ;  Slumkey  his  determina- 
tion to  do  nothing  that  was  asked  of  him.  Both  said,  that  the  trade, 
the  manufactures,  the  commerce,  the  prosperity  of  Eatanswill,  would 
ever  be  dearer  to  their  hearts  than  any  earthly  object ;  and  each  had  it 
in  his  power  to  state,  with  the  utmost  confidence,  that  he  was  the  man 
who  would  eventually  be  returned. 

There  was  a  show  of  hands  ;  the  Mayor  decided  in  favour  of  tlie 
honourable  Samuel  Slumkey,  of  Slumkey  Hall.  Horatio  Fizkin, 
Esquire,  of  Fizkin  Lodge,  demanded  a  poll,  and  a  poll  was  fixed  accord- 
ingly. Then  a  vote  of  thanks  was  moved  to  the  Mayor  for  his  able 
conduct  in  the  chair  ;  and  the  Mayor  devoutly  wishing  that  he  had  had 
a  chair  to  display  his  able  conduct  in  (for  he  had  been  standing  during 
the  whole  proceedings)  returned  thanks.  The  processions  re-formed, 
the  carriages  rolled  slowly  through  the  crowd,  and  its  member:^ 
screeched  and  shouted  after  them  as  their  feelings  or  caprice  dictaied. 

During  the  whole  time  of  the  polling,  the  town  was  in  a  perpetual 
fever  oi  excitement.  Every  thing  was  conducted  on  the  most  liberal 
and  delightful  scale.  Exciseable  articles  were  remarkably  cheap  at  all 
the  public  houses  ;  and  spring  vans  paraded  the  streets  for  the  accom- 
modation of  voters  who  were  seized  with  any  temporary  dizziness  in 
the  head — an  epidemic  which  prevailed  among  the  electors,  during  the 
contest,  to  a  most  alarming  extent,  and  under  the  influence  of  which 
they  might  frequently  be  seen  lying  on  the  pavements  in  a  state  of 
utter  insensibility.  A  small  body  of  electors  remained  unpolled  on  the 
very  last  day.  They  were  calculating  and  reflecting  persons,  who  had 
not  yet  been  convinced  by  the  arguments  of  either  party,  although  they 
had  had  frequent  conferences  with  each.  One  hour  before  the  close  of 
the  poll.  Mr.  Perker  solicited  the  honour  of  a  private  interview  with 
these  intelligent,  these  noble,  these  patriotic  men.  It  was  granted. 
His  arguments  were  brief,  but  satisfactory.     They  went  in  a  body  to 

Vol.  I.— 12 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 


the  poll ;  and  when  they  returned,  the  honourable  Samuel  Slumkey, 
of  Slumkey  Hall,  was  returned  also. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

COMPRISING   A  BRIEF  DESCRIPTION   OF  THE  COMPANY  AT  THE  PEACOCK  AS- 
SEMBLED ;    AND  A  TALK  TOLD  BY  A  BAGMAN. 

It  is  pleasant  to  turn  from  contemplating  tho  strife  and  turmoil  of 
political  existence,  to  ilie  peaceful  repose  of  private  life.  Although  in 
reality  no  {jreat  partisan  of  either  side,  Mr.  Pickv%-ick  was  sufficiently 
llred  with  Mr.  Putt's  enthusiasm,  to  apply  his  whole  time  and  attention 
to  the  proceedings  of  which  the  last  chapter  ailbrds  a  description,  com- 
piled from  his  own  memoranda.  Nor  while  he  was  thus  occupied  was 
Mr.  Winkle  idle,  his  whole  time  being  devoted  to  pleasant  walks  and 
short  country  excursions  with  Mrs.  Pott,  who  never  failed,  when  such 
an  opportunity  presented  itself,  to  seek  some  relief  from  the  tedious 
monotony  she  so  constantly  complained  of  Th^  two  gentlemen  being 
thus  completely^'domesticated  in  the  editor's  house,  Mr.  Tupnian  and 
Mr.  Snodgrass  were  in  a  great  measure  cast  upon  their  own  resources. 
Taking  but  little  interest  in  public  affairs,  they  beguiled  their  time 
chiefly  with  such  amusements  as  the  Peacock  aflTorded,  which  were 
limited  to  a  bagatelle-board  in  the  first  floor,  and  a. sequestered  skittle- 
ground  in  the  back  yard.  In  the  science  and  nicety  of  both  these  re- 
creations, which  are  far  more  abstruse  than  ordinary  men  suppose,  they 
were  gradually  initiated  by  Mr.  Weller,  who  possessed  a  perfect  know- 
ledge of  such  pastimes.  Thus,  notwithstanding  that  they  were  in  a 
great  measure  deprived  of  the  comfort  and  advantage  of  Mr.  Pickwick's 
society,  they  were  still  enabled  to  beguile  the  time,  and  to  prevent  its 
hariging  heavily  on  their  hands. 

It  was  in  the  evening,  however,  that  the  Peacock  presented  attrac- 
tions which  enabled  the  two  friends  to  resist  even  the  invitations  of  the 
talented,  though  prosily  inclined  Mr.  Pott.  It  was  in  the  evening  that 
the  "commercial  room"  was  filled  with  a  social  circle,  whose  characters 
and  manners  it  was  the  delight  of  Mr.  Tupnian  to  observe  ;  whose 
sayings  and  doings  it  was  the  habit  of  Mr.  Snodgrass  to  note  down. 

Most  people  know  what  sort  of  places  commercial  room?  usually  are. 
That  of  the  Peacock  diflored  in  no  material  respect  from  the  generality 
of  such  apartments  ;,  that  is  to  say,  it  was  a  large  bare-looking  room, 
the  furniture  of  which  no  doubt  had  been  better  when  it  was  newer, 
with  a  spacious  table  in  the  centre,  and  a  variety  of  smaller  dittos  in 
the  corners  ;  an  extensive  assortment  of  'ariously  shaped  chairs,  and 
an  old  Turkey  carpet,  bearing  about  the  same  relative  proportion  to  the 
size  of  the  room,  as  a  lady's  pocket-handkerchief  might  to  the  floor  of  a 
watch-box.  The  walls  were  garnished  with  one  or  two  larfje  maps  ; 
and  several  weather-beaten  rough  great  coats,  with  com[)licated  capes, 
dangled  from  a  long  row  of  pegs  in  one  corner.  The  mantle  shelf  was 
ornamented  with  a  wooden  inkstand,  containing  one  stump  of  a  pen 
and  half  a  wafer,  a  road-book  and  directory,  a  county  history,  minus 
the  cover,  and  the  mortal  remains  of  a  trout  in  a  glass  coflftn.    The  at- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  135 

mosphere  vras  redolent  of  tobacco  smoke,  the  fumes  of  which  had  com- 
municated a  rather  dingy  hue  to  the  whole  room,  and  more  especially 
to  the  dusty  red  curtains  which  shaded  the  windows.  On  the  sideboard 
a  variety  of  miscellaneous  articles  were  huddled  together,  the  most 
conspicuous  of  which  were  some  very  cloudy  fish-sauce  cruets,  a  couple 
of  driving-boxes,  two  or  three  whips,  and  as  many  travelling  shawls,  a 
tray  of  knives  and  forks  and  the  mustard. 

Here  it  was  that  Mr.  Tupraan  and  Mr.  Snod grass  were  seated  on  the 
evening  after  the  conclusion  of  the  election,  with  several  other  tempo- 
rary inmates  of  the  house,  smoking  and  drinking. 

"  Well,  gents,'"  said  a  stout  hale  personage  of  about  forty,  with  only 
one  eye — a  very  bright  black  eye — which  twinkled  with  a  roguish  ex- 
pression of  fun  and  good  humour,  "  Our  noble  selves,  gents.  I  always 
propose  that  toast  to  the  company,  and  drink  Maiy  to  myself.  Eh, 
Mary  V 

♦•  Get  along  with  you,  you  wretch."  said  the  hand-maiden,  obviously 
not  ill  pleased  with  the  compliment,  however. 

•'  Don't  ^0  away,  Mary,"'  said  the  black-eyed  man. 

*'  Let  me  alone,  imperence,"  said  the  young  lady. 

"  Never  mind,'"  said  the  one-eyed  man,  calling  after  the  girl  a.<;  she 
left  the  room.  '•  Til  step  out  by-and-hy  Mary.  Keep  your  spirits  up, 
<lear."  Here  he  went  through  the  not  very  difficult  process  of  winking 
at  the  company  with  his  solitary  eye,  to  the  enthusiastic  delight  of  an. 
elderly  personage  with  a  dirty  face  and  a  clay  pipe. 

"  Rum  creeters  is  women,""  said  the  dirty-faced  man,  after  a  pause. 

'•Ah  !  no  mistake  about  that,"  said  a  very  red-faced  man  behind  a  cigar. 

After  this  little  bit  of  philosophy  there  was  another  pause. 

''  There's  rummer  things  than  women  in  this  world  though,  mind 
you,'"  said  the  man  with  the  black  eye,  slowly  filling  a  large  Dutch 
pipe,  with  a  most  capacious  bowl. 

"  Are  you  married  ]"  inquired  the  dirty- faced  man. 

''  Can't  say  I  am." 

"  I  thought  not.;"  Here  the  dirty-faced  man  fell  into  extasies  of  mirth 
at  his  own  retort,  in  which  he  was  joined  by  a  man  of  bland  voice  and 
placid  countenance,  who  always  made  it  a  point  to  agree  with  every 
body. 

"  VVomeo  after  all,  gentlemen,"  said  the  enthusiastic  Mr.  Snoigrass, 
**  arc  the  great  props  and  comforts  of  our  existence." 

"  So  they  are,"  said  the  placid  gentleman. 

"  When  they  are  in  good  humour,"  interposed  the  dirty-faced  man. 

"  And  that"8  very  true."'  said  the  placid  one. 

"  I  repudiate  that  qualification,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  whose  thoughts 
were  fast  reverting  to  Emily  Wardle,  "  I  repudiate  it  with  disdain — 
with  indignation.  Show  tne  the  man  who  says  anything  arrainst  wo- 
mun,  as  women,  and  I  boldly  declare  he  is  not  a  man."  And  .Mr.  Snod- 
grass took  his  cigar  Iroin  his  mouth,  and  struck  the  table  violently  with 
hi^  c'enched  fist. 

"  That's  good  sound  argument,"  said  the  pl.-\cid  man, 

"  Containing  a  position  which  I  deny,"  interrupted  he  of  the  dirty 
countenance. 

"  And  there's  certainly  a  very  great  deal  of  truth  in  what  you  ob- 
serve too,  sir,"  said  the  placid  gentleman. 

"  Your  health,  sir,^'  said  the  bagman  with  the  lonely  eye,  bestowing 
an  approving  nod  on  Mr.  Snodgrass. 


136  POSTHUMOUS    PAPER*  OF 

Mr.  Snodgrass  acknowledged  the  compliment. 

»*  I  always  like  to  hear  a  good  aro-umcnt,"  continued  tlie  batrman ; 
♦'  a  .sharp  one,  like  this  ;  it's  very  improving  ;  but  this  littio  argument 
about  women  brought  to  my  mind  a  story  I  have  heard  an  old  uncle  of 
mine  tell,  the  recollection  of  which  just  now,  made  me  gay  there  were 
rummer  things  than  women  to  be  met  with  sometimes." 

♦'  I  should  like  to  hear  that  same  story,"  said  the  red-faced  man  with 
the  cigar. 

"  Should  you  1"  was  the  only  reply  of  the  bagman,  who  continued 
to  smoke  with  great  vehemence. 

"So  should  I,"  said  jMr.  Tupman,  speaking  for  the  first  time.  He 
was  always  anxious  to  increase  his  stock  of  experience. 

"Should  yo;i.'  Well  then,  ril- tell  it.  No,  I  won't.  I  know  you 
won't  believe  it,"  said  the  man  with  the  roguish  eye,  making  that  organ 
look  more  roguish  than  ever. 

"  If  you  say  it's  true,  of  course  I  shall,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Well,  upon  that  understanding  I'll  tell  it,"  replied  the  traveller. 
*'  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  great  commercial  house  of  Bilson  and  Slum  ? 
But  it  doesn't  matter  though,  whether  you  did  or  not,  because  they 
retired  from  business  long  since.  It's  eighty  years  ago,  since  the  cir- 
cumstance happened  to  a  traveller  for  that  house,  but  he  was  ,i  partici> 
lar  friend  of  my  uncle's  :  and  my  uncle  told  the  story  to  me.  Its  ^ 
queer  name  ;  but  he  used  to  call  it 

THE  bagman's  story, 

and  he  used  to  tell  it,  something  in  this  way- 

"One  winters  evening,  about  five  o'clock,  just  as  it  began  to  grow 
dusk,  a  man  in  a  gig  might  have  been  seen  urging  his  tired  horse  along 
the  road  which  leads  across  Marlborough  Downs,  in  the  direction  of 
Bristol.  I  say  he  might  have  been  seen,  and  I  have  no  doubt  he  would 
have  been,  if  any  body  but  a  blind  man  had  happened  to  pass  that  way  ; 
but  the  weather  was  so  bad,  and  the  night  so  cold  and  wet,  that  nothing 
was  out  but  the  water,  and  so  the  traveller  jogged  along  in  the  middle 
of  the  road,  lonesome  and  dreary  enough.  If  any  bagman  of  that  day 
could  have  caught  sight  of  the  little  neck-or-nothing  sort  of  gig,  with  a 
clay-|^loured  body  and  red  wheels,  and  the  vixenish  ill-tempered,  fast- 
going  bay  mare,  that  looked  like  a  cross  between  a  butcher's  horse  and 
a  twopenny  post-office  pony,  he  would  have  known  at  once,  that  this 
traveller  could  have  been  no  other  than  Tom  Smart,  of  the  great  house 
of  Bilson  and  Slum,  Cateaton-strect,  City.  However,  as  there  was 
no  bagman  to  look  on,  nobody  knew  any  thing  at  all  about  the  matter; 
and  so  Tom  Smart  and  his  clay-coloured  gig  with  the  red  wheels,  and 
the  vixenish  mare  with  the  fast  pace,  went  on  together,  keeping  the 
secret  among  them,  and  nobody  was  a  bit  the  wiser. 

"  There  are  many  plcasantcr  places  even  in  this  dreary  world,  than 
Marlborough  Downs  when  it  blows  hard  ;  and  if  you  throw  in  beside, 
a  gloomy  winter's  evening,  a  miry  and  sloppy  road  and  a  pelting  fall 
of  heavy  rain,  and  try  the  elTect,  by  way  of  experiment,  in  your  own 
proper  person,  you  will  experience  the  full  force  of  this  observation. 

"  The  wind  blew — not  up  the  road  or  down  it,  though  that's  bad 
enough,  but  sheer  across  it,  sending  the  rain  slanting  down  like  the 
lines  they  used  to  rule  in  the  copy  books  at  school,  to  make  the  boys 
elope  well.     For  a  moment  it  would  die  away,  and  the  traveller  would 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  137 

begin  to  delude  himself  into  the  belief  that,  exhausted  with  its  previous 
fury,  it  had  quietly  lain  itself  down  to  rest, — when  whool  he  would  hear 
it  growlinjj  and  whistling  in  the  distance,  and  on  it  would  come  rush- 
ing over  the  hill-tops,  and  sweeping  along  the  plain,  gaiheri-ig  sound 
and  strength  as  it  drew  nearer,  until  it  dashed  with  a  heavy  gust  agai.ist 
horse  and  man,  driving  the  sharp  rain  into  their  ears,  and  its  cold  damp 
breath  inloUheir  very  bones  ;  and  past  them  it  would  scour,  far,  far 
away,  with  a  stunning  roar,  as  if  in  ridicule  of  their  weakness,  and  tri- 
umphant in  the  consciousness  of  its  own  strength  and  power. 

"  The  bay  mare  splashed  away  through  the  mud  and  water  with 
drooping  ears,  now  and  then  tossing  her  head  as  if  to  express  her  dis- 
gust at  this  very  ungentleinanly  behaviour  of  the  elements,  but  keeping 
a  good  pace  notwithstanding,  until  a  gust  of  wind,  more  furious  than 
any  that  had  yet  assailed  them,  caused  her  to  stop  suddenly,  and 
plant  her  fore  feet  firmly  against  the  ground,  to  prevent  her  being 
blown  over.  It's  a  special  mercy  that  she  did  this,  for  if  she  had  been 
blown  over,  the  vixenish  mare  was  so  light,  and  the  gig  was  so  light, 
and  Tom  Smart  such  a  light  weight  into  the  bargain,  that  they  must 
infallibly  have  all  gone  rolling  over  and  over  together,  until  they  reach- 
ed the  confines  of  earth,  or  until  the  wind  fell ;  and  in  either  case  the 
probability  is,  that  neither  the  vixenish  mare,  nor  the  clay-coloured 
gig  with  rf4  wheels,  nor  Tom  Smart,  would  ever  have  been  fit  for 
service  again. 

"  '  Well,'  says  Tom  Smart,  (Tom  sometimes  had  an  unpleasant 
knack  of  swearing,)  '  if  ^his  ain't  pleasant,  blow  me.' 

"  You'll  very  likely  ask  me,  why,  as  Tom  Smart  had  been  pretty 
well  blown  already,  he  expressed  this  wish  to  be  submitted  to  the  same 
process  a^ain.  I  can't  say — all  I  know  is,  that  Tom  Smart  said  so — 
or  at  least  he  always  told  my  uncle  he  said  so,  and  it's  just  the  same 
thing. 

"  '  Blow  me,'  says  Tom  Smart ;  and  the  mare  neighed  as  if  she 
were  precisely  of  the  same  opinion. 

"  'Cheer  up,  old  girl,'  said  Tom,  pattinj?  the  bay  mare  on  the  neck 
with  the  end  of  his  whip.  '  It  won't  do  pushing  on,  such  a  night  as 
this  ;  the  first  houvse  we  come  to  we'll  put  up  at,  so  the  faster  you  go 
the  sooner  it's  over.     Soho,  old  girl — gently — gently."' 

"  Whether  the  vixenish  mare  was  sufficiently  well  acquainted  with 
the  tnnos  of  Tom's  voice  to  comprehend  his  meaning,  or  whether  she 
found  it  colder  standing  still  than  moving  on,  of  course  I  can't  say. 
But  I  can  say  that  Tom  had  no  sooner  finisiied  speaking,  tUan  she 
pricked  up  h^r  cars,  and  started  forward  at  a  speed  which  made  the 
clay-coloure<]  gig  rattle,  till  you  would  have  supposed  every  one  of  the 
red  spoles  was  going  to  fly  out  on  the  turf  ot^  Marlborough  Downs  ; 
and  even  Tom,  whip  as  he  was,  couldn't  stop  or  check  her  pace,  until 
she  drew  up  of  hor  own  accord,  before  a  road-side  inn  on  the  right 
hand  side  of  the  way,  about  half-a-quartcr  of  a  mile  from  the  end  of 
the  Downs. 

"  Tom  cast  a  hasty  glance  at  the  upper  part  of  the  house  as  he 
threw  the  reins  to  the  hostler,  and  stuck  the  whip  in  the  box.  It  was 
a  strange  old  place,  built  of  a  kind  of  shingle,  inlaid,  as  it  were,  with 
cross-beams,  with  gable-topped  windows  projecting  completely  over  the 
pathway,  and  a  low  door  with  a  dark  porch,  and  a  couple  of  steep  steps 
leading  down  into  the  houae,  instead  of  the  modern  fashion  of  half-a- 
<lozen  shallow  ones,  leading  up  to  it.  It  was  a  corr 'brtable- looking 
12* 


138  POSTHUMOUS    PAPEBS    OF 

place  though,  for  there  was  a  strong  cheerful  fight  in  the  bar-window, 
which  shed  a  bright  ray  across  the  road,  and  even  liglited  up  the  hedge 
on  tlic  other  side  ;  and  there  was  i\.  red  flickering  light  in  the  opposite 
window,  one  moment  faintly  but  discernible,  and  the  next  gleaming 
strongly  througli  the  ^Irawn  curtains,  which  intimated  that  u  rousing 
fire  was  blazing  within.  Marking  these  little  evidences  with  the  eye 
of  an  experienced  traveller,  Tom  dismounted  with  as  much  agUity  as' 
his  half-frozen  limbs  world  permit,  and  entered  the  house. 

"  In  less  than  five  minutes'  time,  Tom  was  ensconced  in  the  room 
opposite  the  bar — the  very  room  where  he  iiail  imagined  the  fire 
blazing — before  a  substantial  matter-of-fact  roaring  fire,  compo.sed  of 
something  short  of  a  bushel  of  coals,  and  wood  enough  to  make  half-a- 
dozen  decent  gooseberry-bushes,  piled  half  way  up  the  chimney,  and 
roaring  and  crackling  with  a  sound  that  of  itself  would  have  warmed 
the  heart  of  any  reasonable  man.  This  was  comfortable,  but  this  was 
not  all,  for  a  smartly  dressed  girl,  with  a  bright  eye  and  a  neat  ankle, 
was  laying  a  very  clean  white  cloth  on  the  table  ;  and  as  Tom  sat 
v.'ith  iiis  slippered  feet  on  the  fender,  and  his  back  to  the  open  door, 
he  saw  a  charming  prospect  of  the  bar  reflected  in  the  glass  over  the 
chimney-piece,  with  delightful  rows  of  green  bottles  and  gold  labels, 
together  with  jars  of  pickles  and  preserves,  and  cheeses  and  boiled 
hams,  and  rounds  of  beef,  arranged  on  shelves  in  the  most  tempting 
and  delicious  array.  Well,  this  was  comfortable  too  ;  but  even  this 
was  not  all — for  in  the  bar,  seated  at  tea  at  the  nicest  possible  little 
table,  drawn  close  up  before  the  brightest  possible  little  fire,  was  a 
buxom  widow  of  somewhere  about  eight-and-Iorty  or  thereabouts,  with 
a  face  as  comfortable  as  the  bar,  who  was  evidently  the  landlady  of  the 
house,  and  the  supreme  ruler  over  all  these  agreeable  possession.". 
There  was  only  one  drawback  to  the  beauty  of  the  whole  picture,  and 
that  was  a  tall  man — a  very  tall  man — in  a  brown  coat  and  bright 
basket  buttons,  and  black  whiskers,  and  wavy  black  hair,  who  was 
seated  at  tea  with  the  widow,  and  who  it  required  no  great  penetration 
to  discover  was  in  a  fair  way  of  persuading  her  to  be  a  widow  no 
longer,  but  to  confer  upon  him  the  privilege  of  sitting  down  in  that 
bar,  for  and  during  the  whole  remainder  of  the  term  of  his  natural  life. 

"Tom  Smart  was  by  no  means  of  an  irritable  or  envious  disposition, 
but  somehow  ar  other  the  tall  man  with  the  brown  coat  and  the  bright 
basket  buttons  did  ro-.ise  what  little  gall  he  had  in  his  composition,  and 
did  make  him  feel  extremely  indignant,  the  more  especially  as  he  could 
now  and  then  observe,  from  his  seat  before  the  glass,  certain  little 
aflfectionate  familiarities  pissing  between  the  tall  man  and  the  widow, 
"which  suflfjciently  denoted  that  tlie  tall  man  was  as  high  in  favour  as 
he  was  in  size.  Tom  was  fond  of  hot  punch — I  may  venture  to  say  he 
was  very  fond  of  hot  punch— and  after  he  had  seen  the  vixenish  mare 
well  fed  and  well  littered  down,  and  eaten  every  bit  of  the  nice  little 
hot  dinner  which  the  widow  tossed  up  for  him  with  her  own  hands,  he 
just  ordered  a  tumbler  of  it,  by  way  of  experiment.  Now  if  there  was 
QUO  thing  in  the  whole  range  of  domestic  art,  which  the  widow  could 
manufacture  better  than  another,  it  was  this  identical  article  ;  and  the 
first  tumbler  was  adapted  to  Tom  Smart's  taste  with  such  peculiar 
nicety,  that  he  ordered  a  second  with  the  least  possible  delay.  Hot 
punch  is  a  pleasant  thing,  gentlemen — an  extremely  pleasant  thing 
under  any  circumstances — but  in  that  snug  old  parlour,  before  the  roar- 
ing fire,  with  thq  wind  blowing  outside  till  every  timber  in  the  old  house 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  133 

creaked  again,  Tom  Smart  found  it  perfectly  delightfuK  He  ordered 
another  tumbler,  and  then  another — I  am  not  quite  certain  whether  he 
didn't  order  another  after  that — but  the  more  he  drank  of  the  hot  punch 
the  more  he  ^bought  of  the  tall  man. 

•"Confound  his  impudence/  said  Tom  Smart  to  himself,  'what 
business  has  he  in  tlnit  snug  bar  ?  Such  an  ugly  villain  too  I'  said  Tom. 
'  If  the  widow  had  any  taste,  she  might  surely  pick  up  some  better 
fellow  than  that.'  He.-e  Tom's  eye  wandered  from  the  glass  on  the 
chimney-piece,  to  the  glass  on  the  table,  and  as  he  felt  himself  becoming 
gradnualiy  sentimental,  he  emptied  the  fourth  tumbler  of  pLinch,  and 
ordered  a  fifth. 

"  Tom  Smart,  gentlemen,  had  always  been  very  much  attached  ta 
the  public  line.  It  had  long  been  his  ambition  to  stand  in  a  bar  of  his 
own,  in  a  green  coat,  knee-cords,  and  tops  He  had  a  great  noiion  of 
taking  the*  chair  at  convivial  dinners,  and  he  had  often 'thought  how- 
well  he  could  preside  in  a  room  of  his  own  in  the  talking  way,  and 
what  a  capital  example  he  could  set  to  his  customers  in  the  drinking 
department.  All  these  things  passed  rapidly  tlu-ough  Tom's  mind  as 
he  sat  drinking  the  hot  punch  by  the  roaring  fire,  and  he  felt  very  justly 
and  properly  indignant  that  the  tall  man  should  be  in  a  feir  way  -jI" 
keeping  such  an  excellent  house,  while  he,  Tom  Smart,  was  as  far  oft 
from  it  as  ever.  So,  after  deliberating  over  the  last  two  tumblers, 
whether  he  hadn't  a  perfect  right  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  the  tall  man 
for  having  contrived  to  get  into  the  good  graces  of  the  buxom  widow, 
Tom  Smart  at  last  arrived  at  the  satisfactory  conclusion  that  he  was  a 
very  ill-used  and  persecuted  individual,  and  had  better  go  to  bed. 

"  Up  a  wide  and  ancient  staircase  the  smart  girl  preceded  Tom, 
shadincr  the  chamber  candle  with  her  hand,  to  protect  it  from  the  cur- 
rents of  air  which  in  such  a  rambling  old  place  might  have  found  plentv 
of  room  to  disj>ort  themselves  in,  without  blowing  the  candle  out,  but 
■which  did  blow  it  out  nevertheless  ;  thus-  affording  Tom's  enemies 
ai  opportunity  of  asserting  that  it  was  he  who  extino-ui.slied  the 
candle,  and  not  the  wind,  and  that  while  he  j>retended  to  be  blowing  it 
a-light  again,  he  was  in  fact  kissing  the  girl.  Be  .his  as  it  may,  another 
hght  was  obtained,  and  Tom  was  conducted  through  a  maze  of  rooms, 
and  a  labyrinth  of  passages,  to  the  apartment  which  had  been  prepared 
for  his  reception,  where  the  girl  bade  him  good  night,  and  left  him  alone. 

"  It  was  a  good  large  roon>  with  big  closets,  and  a  bed  which  might 
have  served  for  a  whole  boarding-school,  to  say  nothing  of  a  couple  of 
oaken  presses  that  would  have  held  the  baggage  of  a  small  army  ;  but 
what  struck  Tom's  fancy  mo.st,  was  a  strange,  grim-lookintr,  high- 
hacked  chair,  carved  in  the  most  fantastic  manner,  with  a  11  jwcred 
damask  cushion,  and  the  round  knobs  at  the  bottom  of  the  leijs  carefully 
tied  up  in  red  cloth,  as  if  it  had  got  the  gout  iu  its  toes.  Of  any  other 
qi.ieer  chair.  Tom  would  only  have  thought  it  jcas  a  queer  chair,  and 
there  would  have  been  an  end  of  the  matter;  but  there  was  something 
about  this  particular  chair,  and  yet  he  couldn't  tell  what  it  was,  so  odd 
and  so  unlike  any  other  piece  of  furniture  he  had  ever  seen,  that  it 
seemed  to  fascinate  him.  '  He  sat  down  before  the  fire,  and  .Glared  at 
the  old  chair  for  half  an  hour : — It  was  such  a  strange  old  thing,  ho 
couldn't  take  his  eves  off  it. 

"  «  Well,"  said  Tom  slowly  undressing  himself,  and  staring  at  tho 
old  chair  all  the  while,  which  stood  with  a  mysterious  aspect  by  the 
bed-side,  '  I  never  saw  such  a  rum  concern  as  that  in  my  days.     Very 


140  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

odd,'  said  Tom,  who  had  got  rather  sage  with  the  hot  punch,  *  Very 
odd.'  Tom  shook  his  head  with  an  air  of  profound  wisdom,  and  h)oked 
at  lhe«chair  again.  He  couldn't  make  any  thing  of  it  tliough,  so  he  got 
into  bed,  covered  liinisolf  uj)  wirin,  and  fell  asleep. 

"  In  ahout  half  an  hour,  Tom  woke  up  with  a  start,  from  a  con- 
fused dream  of  tall  men  and  tumblers  of  punch  :  and  the  first  object 
that  presented  itself  to  his  waking  imagination  was  the  queer  chair. 

♦'  '  I^won't  look  at  it  any  more,'  said  Tom  to  l»imself,  and  he  squeezed 
his  eyelids  together,  and  tried  to  persuade  himself  he  was  going  to 
sleej)  again.  No  use  ;  nothing  but  queer  chairs  danced  before  his  eyes, 
kicking  up  their  legs,  jumping  over  each  other's  backs,  and  playing  all 
kinds  of  antics.  v 

'• '  I  may  as  well  see  one  real  chair,  as  two  or  three  complete  sets  of 
false  ones,'  said  Tom,  bringing  out  his  head  from  under  the  bed-clolhes. 
There  it  was,  plainly  discernible  by  the  light  of  the  fire,  looking  as  pro- 
voking as  ever. 

"  Tom  gazed  at  the  chair ;  and  suddenly  as  he  looked  at  it,  a  most 
extraordinary  change  seemed  to  come  over  it.  The  carving  of  the  back 
gradually  assumed  the  lineaments  and  expression  of  an  old,  shrivelled 
human  face  ;  the  damask  cushion  became  an  antique,  flapped  waist- 
coat ;  the  round  knobr.  grew  into  a  couple  of  feet,  encased  in  red 
cloth  slippers,  and  the  whole  chair  looked  like  a  very  ugly  old  man,  of, 
the  j)revious  century,  with  his  arms  a-kimbo.  Tom  sat  up  in  bed,  and 
rubbed  his  eyes  to  dispel  the  illusion.  No.  The  chair  was  an  ugly 
old  gentleman  ;  and  what  was  more,  he  was  winking  at  Tom  Smart. 

'•  Tom  was  naturally  a  headlong,  careless  sort  of  dog,  and  he  had  five 
tumblers  of  hot  punch  into  the  bargain;  so,  although  he  was  a  little  start- 
led at  first,  he  began  to  grow  rather  indignant  when  he  saw  the  old 
gentleman  winking  and  leering  at  him  with  such  an  impudent  air. 
At  length  he  resolved  that  he  wouldn't  stand  it ;  and  as  the  old  face 
still  kept  winking  away  as  fast  as  ever,  Tom  said  in  a  very  angry 
tone — 

"  '  What  tho  d — 1  are  you  winking  at  rae  fori' 

"  *  Because  I4ike  it,  Tom  Smart,'  said  the  chair  ;  or  the  old  gentle- 
man, whichever  you  like  to  call  him.  He  stopped  winking  though, 
when  Tom  spoke,  and  began  grinning  like  a  superannuated  monkey. 

"  '  How  do  you  know  my  name,  old  nut-cracker  face  ?'  inquired 
Tom  .Smart,  rather  staggered  ; — though*  he  pretended  to- carry  it  ofl' 
SQ  well. 

"  '  Come,  come,  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  Hhat^s  not  the  way 
to  address  solid  Spanish  Mahogany.  You  couldn't  treat  me  with  less 
respect  if  I  was  veneer<;d.'  When  the  old  gentleman  said  i.his,  be  look- 
ed so  fierce  that  Tom  began  to  grow  frightened. 

*' '  I  didn't  mean  to  treat  you  with  any  disrespect,  sir,'  said  Tom  in  a 
much  humbler  tone  than  h.?  had  spoken  in  at  first. 

" '  Well,  well,'  said  the  old  follow,  '  perhaps  not — perhaps  not. 
Tom—' 

"  ♦  Sir—' 

"'  I  know  every  thing  about  you,  Tom  ;  -every  thing.  You're  very 
poor,  Tom.' 

"  *  I  certainly  am,'  said  Tom  Smart.  '  But  how  came  you  to  know- 
that  1' 

"  '  Never  mind  that,'  said  the  old  gentleman  ;  ♦  you're  much  too  fond 
of  punch,  Tom.' 


THE  PICKWICE  CLUB.  141 

"  Tom  Smart  was  just  on  the  point  of  protesting  that  he  hadn't  tast- 
ed a  drop  since  his  last  birth-day,  but  when  his  eyes  encountered  those 
of  the  old  gentleman,  he  looked  so  , knowing  that  Tom  blushed,  and 
was  siient. 

*' '  Tom,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  '  the  widow's  a  fine  woman — a 
remarkable  fine  woman — eh,  Tom  ?  Here  the  old  fellow  screwed  up 
his  eyes,  cocked  up  one  of  his  wasted  little  legs,  and  looked  altogether 
so  unpleasantly  amsrous,  that  Tom  was  quite  disgusted  with  the  levity 
of  his  behaviour  ; — at  his  tin)e  of  life  too  I 

"  '  I  am  her  guardian,  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman. 

*' '  Are  you  V  inquired  Tom  Smart. 

"  '  I  knew  her  mother,  Tom,'  said  the  old  fellow  ;  «  and  her  grand- 
mother.    She  was  very  fond  of  me — made  me  this  waistcoat,  Tom.' 

'' '  Did  she  ■'  said  Tom  Smart. 

"•'And  these  shoes,'  said  the  old  fellow,  lifting  up  one  of  the  red 
cloth  mufflers  ;  '  but  don't  mention  it,  Tom.  I  shouldn't  like  to  have 
it  known  that  she  was  so  much  attached  to  me.  It  mi^ht  occasion  some 
unpleasantness  in  the  family."  When  the  old  rascal  said  this,  he  looked 
so  extremely  impertinent,  that,  as  Tom  Smart  afterward  declared,  he 
could  have  sat  upon  him  without  remorse. 

"  '  I  have  been  a  great  favourite  among  the  women  in  my  time, 
Tom,'  said  the  profligate  old  debauchee  ;  '  hundreds  of  fine  women 
have  sat  in  my  lap  for  hours  together.  What  do  you  think  of  that,  you 
dog,  eh:'  The  old  gentleman  was  proceeding  lo  recount  some  other 
exjjloits  of  his  youth,  when  he  was  seized  with  such  a  violent  fit  of 
creaking  that  he  was  unable  to  proceed. 

"  'Just  serves  you  right,  old  boy,'  thought  Tom  Smart ;  but  he  didn't 
say  any  thing. 

"  '  Ah  I'  said  the  old  fellow,  '  I  am  a  good  deal  troubled  with  this 
now.  I  am  getting  old,  Tc  ji,  and  have  lost  nearly  all  my  rails.  I 
have  had  an  operation  performed,  too — i  small  piece  let  into  my  bdck 
— and  I  found  it  a  severe  trial,  Tom.' 

"'  I  dare  say  you  did,  .sir,"  said  Tom  Smart. 

•' '  However,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  '  that's  not  the  point.  Tom, 
I  want  you  to  marry  the  widdow.' 

'' '  Me,  sir  !'  said  Tom. 

*'  •  You,'  raid  the  old  gcnfleman. 

*' '  Bless  your  reverend  locks,'  said  Tom,  (he  had  a  few  scattered 
horse-hiirs  left) — 'bless  your  reverend  locks,  she  wouldn't  have  me.' 
And  Tom  sighed  involuntarily,  as  he  thought  of  the  bar. 

"  ♦  Wouldn't  she  !'  said  the  old  gentleman,  firmly. 

"  '  No,  no,'  said  Tom  ;  '  there's  somebody  el.«^e  in  the  wind.  A  tall 
man — a  confoundedly  tall  man — with  black  whiskers.' 

'•  *  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman  ;  '  she  will  never  have  him.' 

"  Won't  she  ]'  said  Tom.  '  If  you  stood  in  the  bar,  old  gentleman, 
you'd  tell  another  ston,'.' 

'♦ '  Pooh,  pooh,'  said  the  old  gentleman.     *  I  know  all  about  that.' 

"  '  About  what !'  said  Tom. 

"  '  The  kissing  behind  the  door,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  Tom,'  .=<iid 
tlie  old  gentleman  ;  and  here  he  gave  another  impudent  look,  which 
made  Tom  very  wroth,  because,  as  you  all  know,  gentlemen,  to  Iumt  au 
eld  fellow,  who  ought  to  know  better,  talking  about  these  lhii);,'s,  i^ 
very  unpleasant — nothing  more  so. 

*'  *  I  know  all  about  that,  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman.  '  I  have  seeu 


142  rosTHurfous  papers  of 

it  done  very  often  in  my  time,  Tom,  between  more  people  than  I  should 
like  to  mention  to  you  ;  but  it  never  came  to  any  thinjr  after  all.' 

"  '  You  must  have  seen  some  queer  things,'  said  Turn,  with  an  in- 
quisitive look. 

"  ♦  Yqu  may  say  that,  Tom,'  repUed  the  old  fellow,  with  a  very  com- 
plicated wink.  '  i  am  the  last  of  my  family,  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentle- 
man, with  a  melancholy  sighi 

*' '  Was  it  a  large  one?  inquired  Tom  Smart. 

" '  There  were  twelve  of  us,  Tom,'  said  the  old  gentleman ;  '  fine 
straight-backed,  handsome  fellows  as  you'd  wish  to  see.  None  of  your 
modern  abortions — all  with  arms,  and  with  a  degree  of  polish,  though 
I  say  it  that  should  not,  which  it  would  have  done  your  heart  good  to 
behold.' 

"  '  And  what's  become  of  the  others,  sir  V  asked  Tom  Smart. 

"The  old  gentleman  applied  his  elbow  to  his  eye  as  he  replied, 
'Gone,  Tom,  gone.  We  had  hard  service,  Tom,^nd  they  hadn't  all 
my  constitution.  They  got  rheumatic  about  the  legs  and  arms,  and 
went  into  kitchens  and  other  hospitals  :  and  one  of  'em,  with  long 
service  and  hard  usaoc,  positively  lost  his  senses  : — he  got  so  crazy 
that  he  was  obliged  to  be  burnt.     Shocking  thing  that,  Tom.' 

"  '  Dreadful !'  said  Tom  Smart. 

"The  old  fellow  paused  for  a  few  minutes,  apparently  struggling' 
with  his  feelings  of  emotion,  and  then  said, 

"  '  However,  Tom,  I  am  wandering  from  the  point.  This  tall  man, 
Tom,  is  a  rascally  adventurer.  The  moment  he  married  the  widow, 
he  would  sell  off  all  tj»e  furniture,  and  run  away.  What  would  be  the 
consequence  ?  She  would  be  deserted  and  reduced  to  ruin,  and  I 
should  catch  my  death  of  cold  in  some  broker's  shop.' 

"  '  Yes,  but — ' 

'•  '  Don't  interrupt  me,'  said  the  old  |t£ntleman.  '  Of  you,  Tom,  I 
entertain  a  very  different  opinion  ;  for  I  well  know  that  if  you  once 
settled  yourself  in  a  public  house,  you  would  never  leave  it,  as  long  as 
there  was  any  thing  to  drink  within  its  walls.' 

"  '  T  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  good  opinion,  sir,'  said 
Tom  Smart. 

"  '  Therefore,'  resumed  the  old  gentleman,  in  a  dictatorial  tone  ;  '  you 
shall  have  her,  and  he  shall  not.' 

"  '  What  is  to  prevent  it  V  said  Tom  Smart,  eagerly. 

'' '  This  disclosure,'  replied  the  old  gentleman  ;  '  he  is  already  married. 

*' '  How  can  I  prove  it?'  said  Tom,  starting  half  out  of  bed. 

"The  old  gentleman  untucked  his  arm  from  his  side,  and  haviuji; 
pointed  to  one  of  the  oaken  presses,  immediately  replaced  it  in  its  olf 
posilii>n. 

" '  He  little  thinks,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  '  that  in  the  right  hand 
pocket  of  a  pair  of  trousers  in  that  press,  he  has  left  a  letter,  entreat- 
ing him  to  return  to  his  disconsolate  wife,  with  six — mark  me,  Tom- 
fiix  babes,  and  all  of  them  small  ones.' 

•'  As  the  old  gentleman  solemnly  uttered  these  words,  his  foaturcM 
grew  less  and  less  distinct,  and  his  figure  more  shadowy.  A  film  camu 
over  Tom  Smart's  eves.  The  old  man  seemed  gradually  blending  into 
the  chair,  the  damask  waistcoat  to  resolve  into  a  cushion,  the  red  slip 
pers  to  shrink  into  little  red  cloth  bags.  The  light  faded  gently  away, 
and  Tom  Smart  fell  back  on  his  pillow,  and  dropped  asleep. 

"  Morninij  roused  Tein  from  the  lethargic  slumber  into  which  he 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  143 

had  fallen  on  the  disappearance  of  the  old  man.  He  sat  up  in  bed,  and 
for  some  minutes  vainly  endeavoured  to  recall  the  events  of  the  }  re- 
ceding night.  Suddenly  they  rushed  upon  him.  He  looked  at  the 
chair,  it  was  a  fantastic  and  grim-looking  piece  of  furniture,  certainly, 
but  it  must  have  been  a  remarkably  ingenious  and  lively  imagination, 
that  could  have  discovered  any  resemblance  between  it  and  an  old  man. 

"  'How  are  you,  old  boy  V  said  Tom.  He  was  bolder  in  the  day- 
light— most  men  are. 

"  The  chair  remained  motionless,  and  spoke  not  a  word. 

"  '  Miserable  morring,'  said  Tom.  No.  The  chair  would  not  be 
drawn  into  conversation. 

"  '  Which  press  did  you  point  to ! — you  can  tell  me  that,'  said  Tom. 
Not  a  word,  gentlemen,  the  chair  would  say. 

'♦ '  It's  not  much  trouble  to  open  it,  any  how,'  said  Tom,  getting  out 
of  bed  very  deliberately.  He  walked  up  to  one  of  the  pres.ses.  The 
key  was  in  the  lock  ;  he  turned  it,  and  opened  the  door.  There  icas  a 
pair  of  trousers  there.  He  put  his  hand  into  the  pocket,  and  drew  forth 
the  identical  letter  the  old  gentleman  had  described  ! 

"  '  Queer  sort  of  thing,  this,'  said  Tom  iSmart ;  looking  first  at  the 
chair  and  then  at  the  press,  and  then  at  the  letter,  and  then  at  the  chair 
again.  *  Very  queer,'  said  Tom.  But  as  there  was  nothing  in  either 
to  lessen  the  queerness,  he  thought  he  might  as  well  dress  himself,  and 
settle  the  tall  man's  business  at  once — ^just  to  put  him  out  of  his  misery. 

"  Tom  surveyed  the  rooms  he  passed  through,  on  his  way  down 
stairs,  with  the  scrutinizing  eye  of  a  landlord  ;  thinking  it  not  impos- 
sible, that  before  long  they  and  their  contents  would  be  his  property. 
The  tall  man  was  standing  in  the  snug  little  bar,  with  his  hands  be- 
hind him,  quite  at  home.  He  grinned  vacantly  at  Tom.  A  casual 
observer  might  have  supposed  he  did  it,  only  to  show  his  white  teeth  ; 
but  Tom  Smart  thought  a  consciousness  of  triumph  was  passing 
through  the  place  where  the  tall  man's  mind  would  have  been,  if  he 
had  had  any.     Toni  laughed  in  his  face  ;  and  summoned  the  landlady. 

** '  Good  morning,  ma'am,'  said  Tom  Smart,  closing  the  door  of  the 
little  parlour  as  the  widow  entered. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,'  said  the  widow.  *  What  will  you  take  for 
breakfast,  sir  !' 

"  Tom  was  thinking  how  he  should  open  the  case,  so  he  made  no 
answer. 

*'  *  There's  a  very  nice  ham,'  said  the  widow,  •  and  a  beautiful  cold 
larded  fowl.     Shall  I  send  'em  in,  sir  T 

"  These  words  roused  Tom  from  his  reflections.  His  admiration 
of  the  widow  increased  as  she  spoke.  Thoughtful  creature  !  Com- 
fortable provider  I 

"  •  Who  is  that  gentleman  in  the  bar,  ma'am  T  inquired  Tom. 

'• '  His  name  i.>  Jinkins,  sir,'  said  the  widow,  slightly  blushing. 

*' '  He's  a  tall  man,'  said  Tom. 

"  '  He  is  a  very  fine  man,  sir,'  replied  the  widow,  *  and  a  very  nice 
gentleman.' 

"  '  .\h  1'  said  Tom. 

•*  '  Is  there  any  thing  more  you  want,  sir  1'  inquired  the  widow,  ra- 
ther puzzled  by  Tom's  manner. 

"  '  Why,  yes,'  said  Tom.  '  My  dear  ma'am,  will  you  have  the  kind- 
ness to  sit  down  for  one  moment  !' 

**  The  widow  looked  much  amazed,  but  she  sat  down,  and  Tom  sat 


144  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

down  too,  close  beside  her.  I  don't  know  how  it  happened,  gentie- 
nipn — indeed  my  uncle  used  to  tell  me  that  Tom  Smart  said  he  didn't 
know  how  it  happened  either — but  somehow  or  other  the  palm  of  Tom's 
liand  fell  upon  the  back  of  the  widow's  hand,  and  remained  there  while 
he  spoke. 

"  '  jMy  dear  ma'am,'  said  Tom  Smart — he  had  always  a  great  notion 
of  committing  the  amiable — '  My  dear  ma'am,  you  deserve  a  very  ex- 
cellent husband  ; — you  do  indeed.' 

"  '  Why,  sir  !'  said  the  widow — as  well  she  might ;  Tom's  mode  of 
commencing  the  conversation  being  rather  unusual,  not  to  say  start- 
ling, the  fact  of  his  never  having  set  eyes  upon  her  before  the  previous 
night,  being  taken  into  consideration.     '  Why,  sir  !' 

'* '  I  scorn  to  flatter,  my  dear  ma'am,"  said  Tom  Smart.  *  You  de* 
serve  a  very  admirable  husband,  and  whoever  he  is  he'll  be  a  very 
lucky  man.'  As  Tom  said  this,  his  eye  involuntarily  wandered  from 
the  widow's  face  to  the  comforts  around  him. 

"  The  widow  looked  more  puzzled  than  ever,  and  made  an  effort 'to 
rise.  Tom  gently  pressed  her  hand,  as  if  to  detain  her.,  and  she  kept 
her  seat.  Widows,  gentlemen,  are  not  usually  timorous,  as  my  uncle 
used  to  say. 

"  '  I  am  sure  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  for  your  good 
opinion,'  said  the  buxom  landlady,  half  laughing  ;  '  and  if  ever  I  marry 
again' — 

"  '//",'  said  Tom  Smart,  looking  very  shrewdly  out  at  the  right  hand 
comer  of  his  left  eye.     '//"' — 

<«  '  WVll,'  said  the  widow,  laughing  outright  this  time.  '■When  I 
do,  I  hope  I  shall  have  as  good  a  husband  as  you  describe.' 

"  '  Jinkins  to  wit,'  said  Tom. 

"  '  Why,  sir  !'  exclaimed  the  widov?. 

"  '  Oh,  don't  tell  me,   said  Tom,  '  I  know  him.' 

"  '  I  am  sure  nobody  who  knows  him,  knows  any  thing  bad  of  him,' 
said  the  widow,  bridling  up  at  the  mysterious  air  with  which  Tom  had 
spoken. 

"  '  Hem,'  said  Tom  Smart. 

**  The  widow  began  to  think  it  was  high  time  to  cry,  so  she  took  out 
her  handkerchief,  and  inquired  whether  Tom  wished  to  insult  her  ; 
whether  he  thought  it  like  a  gentleman  to  take  away  the  character  of 
another  gentleman  behind  his  back  ;  why,  if  he  had  got  any  thing  to 
say,  he  didn't  say  it  to  the  man,  like  a  man,  instead  of  terrifying  a  poor 
weak  woman  in  that  way  ;  and  so  forth.  . 

" '  I'll  say  it  to  him  fast  enough,'  said  Tom,  '  only  I  want  you  to 
hear  it  first.' 

"  '  What  is  it  1'  inquired  the  widow,  looking  intently  in  Tom's  coun- 
tenance. 

"  I'll  astonish,  you,'  said  Tom,  putting  his  hand  in  his  pocket. 

"  *  If  it  is,  that  he  wants  money,'  said  the  widow,  '  I  know  that 
already,  and  you  needn't  trouble  vouself.' 

" '  Pooh,  nonsense,  that's  nothin'  '  said  Tom  Smart ;  '  I  want 
money.     'Tah't  that.' 

"  '  Oh  dear,  what  can  it  be  V  exclaimed  the  poor  widow. 

«'  '  Don't  be  friirhtened,'  said  Tom  Smart.  He  slowly  drew  forth  the 
letter,  and  unfolded  it.     '  You  won't  scream  1'  said  Tom,  doubtfully. 

"  ♦  No,  no,'  replied  the  widow  ;  *  let  me  see  it.' 

*' '  You  won't  go  fainting  away,  or  any  of  that  nonsense  V  said  Tom. 


PCSTHUMOCS   PAPERS  OF 

•*  ♦  No,  no,'  returned  the  widow,  hastily. 

"'And  don't  run  out,  and  blow  him  up,'  said  Tom,  'because  I'll 
do  ail  that  for  you  ;  you  had  better  not  exert  yourself.' 

"  '  Well,  well,'  said  the  widow,   '  let  me  sec  it.' 

"  '  I  will,'  replied  Tom  Smart ;  and,  with  these  words,  he  placed  the 
letter  in  the  widow's  hand. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  have  heard  n)y  uncle  say,  that  Tom  Smart  said  the 
wi<low's  lamentations,  when  she  heard  the  disclosure,  would  have 
pierced  a  heart  of  stone.  Tom  was  certainly  very  tender-hearted,  but 
they  pierced  his,  to  the  very  core.  The  widow  rocked  herself  to  and 
fro,  and  wrung  her  hands. 

"  '  Oh,  the  deception  and  villany  of  the  man  !'  said  the  widow. 

*' '  Frightful,  my  dear  ma'am  ;  but  compose  yourself,'  said  Tom 
Smart. 

'"*0h,  I  can't  compose  myself,'  shrieked  the  widow.  <I  shall 
never  find  any  one  else  I  can  love  so  much  !' 

"  '  Oh.  yes,  you  will,  my  dear  soul,'  said  Tom  Smart,  letting  fall  a 
shower  of  the  largest-sized  tears,  in  pity  for  the  widow's  misfortunes. 
Tom  Smart,  in  the  energy  of  his  compassion,  had  put  his  arm  round 
the  widow's  waist  ;  and  the  widow,  in  a  passion  of  grief,  had  clasped 
Tom's  h-ind.  She  looked  up  in  Tom's  face,  and  smiled  through  her 
tears.     Tom  looked  dowm  in  hers,  and  smiled  through  his. 

"  I  never  could  find  out,  gentlemen,  whether  Tom  did  or  did  not 
kiss  the  widow  at  that  particular  moment.  He  used  to  tell  my  uncle 
he  didn't,  but  I  have  my  doubts  about  it.  Between  ourselves,  gentle- 
men, I  rather  think  he  did. 

*'  At  all  evenls,  Tom  kicked  the  ver\-  tall  man  out  at  the  front  door 
half  an  hour  after,  and  married  the  widow  a  month  after.  And  he 
used  to  drive  about  the  country,  with  the  clay-coloured  gig  with  the 
red  wheels,  and  the  vixenish  mare  with  the  fast  pace,  till  he  gave  up 
business  many  years  afterward,  and  went  to  France  with  his  wife  ; 
and  then  the  old  house  was  pulled  down." 


*'  Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you,"  said  the  inquisitive  old  gentleman, 
"  what  became  of  the  chair !"' 

"  Why,"  replied  the  one-ey^cd  bagman,  "  it  was  observed  to  creak 
very  much  on  the  day  of  the  wedding ;  but  Tom  Smart  couldn't  say 
for  certain,  whether  it  was  with  pleasure  or  bodily  infirmity.  He 
rather  thought  it  was  the  latter,  though,  for  it  never  spoke  afterward." 

"  Every  body  believed  the  stor}-,  didn't  they  ?"  said  the  dii;ty-faced 
man,  re-fillinrr  his  pipe. 

"  Except  Tom'.s  enemies,"  replied  the  bagman.  "  Some  of  'em 
«aid  Tom  invented  it  altogether  ;  and  others  said  he  was  drunk,  and 
fancied  it,  and  got  hold  of  the  wrong  trouscr.*?  by  mistake  before  he 
went  to  bed.     But  nobody  ever  minded  what  they  said." 

"  Tom  Smart  said  it  was  all  true  ?'' 

*'  Every  word." 

*' And  your  uncle  ^" 

"  Every  letter." 

♦'  They  must  have  been  nice  men,  both  of  'em,"  said  the  dirty-faced 
man. 

"Yes,  they  were,  replied  the  bagman  ;  very  nice  men  indeed  !" 

Vol.  1—13 


146  POSTH0MOU8  FAPBR8  OV 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IN  WHICH  IS  GIVEN  A  FAITHFUL  PORTRAITURB  OP  TWO  DISTINGUISHED 
PERSONS  ;  AND  AN  ACCURATE  DESCRIPTION  OF  A  PUBLIC  BREAKFAST  IH 
THEIR  HOUSE  AND  GROUNDS  :  WHICH  PUBLIC  BREAKFAST  LEADS  TO  THB 
RECOGNITION  OF  AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE,  AND  THE  COMMENCEMENT  W 
ANOTHER  CHAPTER. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  conscience  had  been  somewhat  reproaching  him  foi 
his  recent  neglect  of  liis  friends  at  the  Peacock ;  and  he  was  just  on 
the  point  of  walking  forth  in  quest  of  them,  on  the  third  morning  after 
the  election  had  terminated,  when  his  faithful  valet  put  into  hia  band  a 
card,  on  which  was  engraved  the  following  inscription. 

M0.  Xeo  ifuntcc, 

TTie  Den,  Eatantwill. 

*'  Person's  a  waitin',"  said  Sam,  cpigrammatically. 

"  Does  the  person  want  me,  Sam  V  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"He  wants  you  partickler  ;  and  no  one  else'll  do,  as  the  devil's  pri- 
vate secretary  said,  ven  he  fetched  away  Doctor  Faustus,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller. 

'♦  He.     Is  it  a  gentleman  V  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  A  werry  good  imitation  o'  one,  if  it  ain't,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

•'  But  this  is  a  lady's  card,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Given  me  by  a  gen'l'm'n,  hows'ever,"  replied  Sam,  "  and  he's  a 
waitin'  in  the  drawing-room — said  he'd  rather  wait  all  day,  than  not 
see  you." 

Mr.  Pickwick  on  hearing  this  determination,  descended  to  the  draw- 
ing-room, where  sat  a  grave  man,  who  started  up  on  his  entrance,  and 
said  with  an  air  of  profound  respect 

"  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  presume  I" 

"  The  same." 

"  Allow  me,  sir,  the  honour  of  grasping  your  hand — ^permit  me,  sir, 
to  shake  it,"  said  the  grave  man. 

''  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

The  stranger  shook  the  extended  hand,  and  then  contmued. 

'•  We  have  heard  of  your  fame,  sir.  The  noise  of  your  antiquariaa 
discussion  has  reached  the  ears  of  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter — my  wife,  sir ;  / 
am  Mr.  Leo  Hunter" — the  stranger  paused,  as  if  he  expected  that  Mr. 
Pickwick  would  be  overcome  by  the  disclosure  ;  but  seeing  that  he 
remained  perfectly  caln3,  proceeded. 

"My  wife,  sir — Mrs.  Leo  Hunter — is  proud  to  number  among  her 
acquaintance,  all  those  who  have  rendered  themselves  celebrated  by 
their  works  and  talents.  Permit  me,  sir,  to  place  in  a  conspicuous  part 
of  the  list,  the  name  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  his  brother  members  of  the 
club  that  derives  its  name  from  him." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  147 

"  I  shall  be  extremely  happy  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  such  a 
lady,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  You  sJudl  make  it,  sir,"  said  the  grave  man.  "  To-morrow  morn- 
ing, sir,  we  give  a  public  breakfast — a  fete  champetre — to  a  great 
number  of  those  who  have  rendered  themselves  celebrated  by  their 
works  and  talents.  Permit  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  sir,  to  have  the  gratifica- 
tion of  seeing  you  at  the  Den." 

*'  With  great  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Pickvnck. 

**  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  has  many  of  these  breakfasts,  sir,"  resumed  the 
new  acquaintance — ''  '  Feasts  of  reason,  sir,  and  flows  of  soul,'  as 
somebody  who  wrote  a  sonnet  to  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  on  her  breakfasts, 
feelingly  and  originally  observed." 

*•  Was  he  celebrated  for  his  works,  and  talents  ?'  inquired  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

*'  He  was,  sir,"  replied  the  grave  man,  "  all  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's  ac- 
quaintance are  ;  it  is  her  ambition,  sir,  to  have  no  other  acquaintance." 

•'  It  is  a  very  noble  ambition,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  When  I  inform  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  that  that  remark  fell  from  your 
lips,  sir,  she  will  indeed  be  proud,"  said  the  grave  man.  "  You  have  a 
gentleman  in  your  train,  who  has  produced  some  beautiful  little  poems, 
I  think,  sir." 

"  My  friend  Mr.  Snodgrass  has  a  great  taste  for  poetry,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  So  has  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  sir.  She  dotes  on  poetry,  sir.  She 
adores  it ;  I  may  say  that  her  whole  soul  and  mind  are  wound  up  eind 
entwined  with  it.  She  has  produced  some  delightful  pieces  herself,  sir. 
You  may  have  met  with  her  '  Ode  to  an  expiring  Frog,'  sir." 

"  I  don't  think  I  have,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"You  astonish  me,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Leo  Hunter.  ♦*  It  created  an 
immense  sensation.  It  was  signed  with  an  '  L'  and  eight  stars,  and 
appeared  originally  in  a  Lady's  Magazine.     It  commenced, 

Can  I  view  thee  panting,  lying 
On  thy  stomach,  without  sighing  ; 
Can  I  unmoved  see  thee  dying 

On  a  log, 

Expiring  Frog  !'" 

*•  Beautiful !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Fine,"  said  Mr.  I^eo  Hunter,  '*  so  simple." 

"  Verj,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  The  next  verse  is  still  more  touching.     Shall  I  repeat  it '" 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  It  runs  thus,"  said  the  grave  man  still  more  gravely. 

'  Say  have  fiends  in  shape  of  boys. 
With  wild  halloo,  and  brutal  noise. 
Hunted  thee  from  marshy  joys. 

With  a  dog. 
Expiring  frog  V  " 

*'  Finely  expressed,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  All  point,  sir,  all  point,"  said  .Mr.  Leo  Hunter,  "  but  you  shall  hear 
Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  repeat  it.  She  can  do  justice  to  it,  sir.  She  will 
lepeat  it,  in  character,  sir,  to-morrow  morning." 

^^  la  character !" 


148  POSTHUMOOS  PAPERS  OF 

•'  As  Minerva.     But  I  forgot — it's  a  fancy  dress  dejeuns.'' 

•'  Dear  itie,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  glancing  at  his  own  figure — ''  I  can't 
possibly" — 

•'  Can't,  sir  ;  can't !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Leo  Hunter.  "  Solomon  Lucas, 
the  Jew  in  the  Hich  Street,  has  thousands  of  fancy  dresses.  Con- 
sider, sir,  how  many  appropriate  characters  are  open  for  your  selection. 
Plato,  Zeno,  Epicurus,  Pythagoras — all  founders  of  clubs." 

"  I  know  that,'*  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  but  as  I  cannot  put  myself  in 
competition  with  those  great  men,  I  cannot  presume  to  wear  their 
dresses." 

The  grave  man  considered  deeply,  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  said, 

''  On  reflection,  sir,  I  don't  know  whether  it  would  not  afford  Mrs. 
Leo  Hunter  greater  pleasure,  if  her  guests  saw  a  gentleman  of  your 
celebrity  in  his  own  costume,  rather  than  in  an  assumed  one.  I  may 
venture  to  promise  an  exception  in  your  case,  sir — Yes,  I  am  quite  cer- 
tain that  on  behalf  of  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  I  may  venture  to  do  so." 

''  In  that  case,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  shall  have  great  pleasure  in 
coming." 

'•But  I  waste  your  time,  sir,"  said  the  grave  man,  as  if  suddenly 
recollecting  himself  "  I  know  its  value,  sir.  I  will  not  detain  you. 
I  may  tell  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  then,  that  she  may  confidently  expect  you 
and  your  distinguished  friends  1  Good  morning,  sir,  I  am  proud  to 
have  beheld  so  eminent  a  personage-^not  a  step,  sir ;  not  a  word.''' 
And  without  giving  Mr.  Pickwick  time  to  oflfer  remoustratice  or  denial, 
Mr.  Leo  Hunter  stalked  gravely  away. 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  up  his  hat,  and  repaired  to  the  Peacock,  but  Mr, 
Winkle  had  conveyed  the  intelligence  of  the  fancy  ball  there,  before 
him. 

"  Mrs.  Pott's  going,"  were  the  first  words  with  which  he  saluted  his 
leader. 

"  Is  she  ]"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  As  Apollo,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.     "  Only  Pott  objects  to  the  tunic." 

"  He  is  right.     He  is  quite  right,"  sakl  Mr.  Pickwick  emphatically. 

•'  Yes  ; — so  she's  going  to  wear  a  white  satin  gown  with  gold 
spano-les." 

"  They'll  hardly  know  what  she's  meant  for;  wuUthey;"  inquired 
Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Of  course  they  will,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  indignantly.  "  They'll 
see  her  lyre,  won't  they  ?" 

"  True  ;  I  forgot  that,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

*'  I  shall  go  as  a  bandit,"  interposed  Mr.  Tupman. 

«  What  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  sudden  start. 

"  As  a  bandit,"  repeated  Mr.  Tupman,  mildly. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  gazing  witli  solemn 
sternness  at  his  friend,  "You  don't  mean  to  say,  Mr.  TLij)man,  that  it 
is  your  intention  to  put  yourself  into  a  green  velvet  jacket,  with  a  two- 
inch  tail  ]■' 

"  Such  is  my  intention,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  waniily.  "  And 
why  not,  sir  V 

"  Because  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  considerably  excited — "  Because 
you  arc  too  old,  sir." 

"Too  old  I"  exclaimed  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  And  if  any  further  ground  of  objection  be  wanting,"  continued 
Mr.  Pickwick,  '*  you  are  too  fat,  sir." 


THE  PICKWICK  ''LCB.  149 

**SiT,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  his  face  suffused  with  a  crimson  glow, 
•*this  is  an  insult."' 

"  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  same  tone,  "  it  is  not  half  the  in- 
sult to  you,  that  your  appearance  in  my  presence  in  a  green  velvet 
jacket,  with  a  two-inrh  tail,  would  be  to  me." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  "  you're  a  fellow." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  you're  another  !'* 

Mr  Tupman  advanced  a  step  or  two,  and  glared  at  Mr.  Pickwick. 
Mr.  Pickwick  returned  the  glare,  concentrated  into  a  focus  by  means  of 
his  spectacles,  and  breathed  a  boW  defiance.  Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr. 
"Winkle  looked  oa  petrified  at  beholding  such  a  scene  between  two  such 
men. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  after  a  short  pause,  speaking  in  a  low 
deep  voice,  ♦'  you  have  called  me  old.** 

"  I  have,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"And  fat." 

*'  I  reiterate  the  charge." 

♦«  And  a  fellow." 

"So  you  are  !'^ 

There  was  a  fearful  pause. 

"  My  attachment  to  your  person,  sir.*'  said  Mr.  Tupman,  speaking 
in  a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  and  tucking  up  his  wristbands  mean- 
while,  '*  is  great — very  great — but  upon  that  person  I  must  take  sum- 
mary vengeance." 

"Gome  on,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  Stimulated  by  the  exciting 
nature  of  the  dialogue,  the  heroic  man  actually  threw  himself  into  a 
paralytic  attitude,  confidently  supposed  by  the  two  by-standers  to  have 
been  intended  as  a  posture  of  defence. 

''  What !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Snodgrass,  suddenly  recovering  the  power 
of  speech,  of  which  intense  astonishment  had  previously  bereft  him, 
and  rushing  between  the  two  at  the  imminent  hazard  of  receiving  an 
application  on  the  temple  from  each.  "  What  !  Mr.  Pickwick,  with 
the  eyes  of  the  world  upon  you  !  Mr.  Tupman  I  who  in  common  with 
us  all,  derives  a  lustre  from  his  undying  name  !  For  shame,  gentie- 
cnea,  for  shame."' 

The  unwonted  lines  which  momentary  passion  had  ruled  in  Mr. 
Pickwick's  clear  and  open  brow,  gradually  melted  away,  as  his  young 
friend  spoke,  like  the  marks  of  a  black-lead  pencil  beneath  the  softening, 
influence  of  India  rubber.  His  countenance  had  rcsunied  its  usual 
benign  expression  ere  he  concluded. 

"I  have  been  hasty,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "very  hasty.  Tupman, 
your  hand." 

The  dark  shadow  f>assed  from  Mr.  Tupman's  face,  as  he  warmly 
grasped  the  hand  of  his  friend. 

"  I  have  been  hasty  too,"  said  he. 

"Xo,  no,"  interrupted  .Mr.  Pickwick,  "the  fauh  was  mine.  You 
will  wear  the  green  velvet  jacket.'' 

'•No,  no,''  replied  .Mr.  Tupman. 

"  To  oblige  me,  you  will,'   resumed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Well,  well,  I  w'iU,''  said  Mr.  Tujiman. 

It  was  accnrdinglv  settled  that  .Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  .Mr. 
Snodgrass  should  all  wear  fancy  dresses.  Thus  Mr.  Pickwick  wai;  led 
hy  the  very  >varmth  of  his  feelings  to  give  bis  con.scnt  to  a  procee«ling 
ixom  which  his  belter  judgment  would  have  recoiled — a  more  striking 

13* 


150  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

illustration  of  his  amiable  character  could  hajdly  have  been  conceived, 
even  if  th^  events  recorded  in  these  pa^es  had  been  wholly  imaginary. 
Mr.  Leo  Hunter  had  not  exagirerated  the  resources  of  Mr.  Solomon 
Lucas.  His  wardrobe  was  extensive — very  exlnnslve — not  strictly 
classical,  perhaps,  nor  quite  new,  nor  did  it  contain  any  one  garment 
made  precisely  after  the  fashion  of  any  age  or  time,  but  every  thing 
was  more  or  less  spangled  ;  and  what  caji  be  prettier  than  spangles  ? 
It  may  be  objected  that  they  are  not  adapted  to  the  day-light,  but  every 
bodv  knows  that  they  would  glitter  if  there  were  lamps  ;  and  nothing 
can  be  clearer  than  that  if  people  give  fancy  balls  in  the  day-lime,  and 
the  dresses  do  not  show  quite  as  well  as  they  would  by.  night,  the  fault 
lies  solely  with  the  people  who  give  the  fancy  balls,  and  is  in  nowise 
chargeable  on  the  spangles.  Such  was  the  convincing  reasoning  of  Mr. 
Solomon  Lucas  ;  and  influenced  by  such  arguntents  did  Mr.  Tupmao, 
Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  engage  to  array  themselves  in  cos- 
tumes which  his  taste  and  experience  induced  him  to  recommend  as 
admirably  suited  to  the  occasion. 

A  carriage  was  hired  from  the  Town  Arms,  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  Pickwickians,  and  a  chariot  was  ordered  from  the  same  reposi- 
tory, for  the  purpose  of  conveying  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pott  to  Mrs.  Leo  Hun- 
ter's grounds,  which  Mr.  Pott,  as  a  delicate  acknowledgment  of  having 
received  an  invitation,  had  already  confidently  predicted  in  the  Eatan- 
swill  Gazette,  "  would  present  a  scene  of  varied  and  delicious  ecchant- 
ment — a  bewildering  coruscation  of  beauty  and  talent — a  lavish  and 
prodigal  display  of  hospitality — above  all,  a  degree  of  splendour  soft- 
ened by  the  most  exquisite  taste  ;  and  adornment  refined  with  perfect 
harmony  and  the  ch?.stest  good-keeping — compared  with  which  the 
fabled  gorgeousness  of  Eastern  Fairy  Land  itself  would  appear  to  be 
clothed  in  as  many  dark  and  murky  colours,  as  must  be  the  mind  of 
the  splenetic  and  unmanly  being  who  could  presume  to  taint  with  the 
venom  of  his  envy,  the  preparations  making  by  the  virtuous  and  highly 
distinguished  lady,  at  whose  shrine  this  humble  tribute  of  admiration 
was  offered."  This  last  was  a  piece  of  biting  sarcasm  against  the  In- 
dependent, who  in  consequence  of  not  having  been  invited  at.  all,  had 
been  through  four  numbers  affecting  to  sneer  at  the  whole  affair,  in  his 
very  largest  type,  with  all  the  adjectives  in  capital  letters. 

The  morning  came  ;  it  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  behold  Mr.  Tupman 
in  full  brigand's  costume,  with  a  very  tight  jacket,  sitting  like  a  pin- 
cushion over  his  back  and  shoulders  :  the  upper  portion  of  his  legs  en- 
cased in  the  velvet  shorts,  and  the  lower  part  thereof  swathed  in  the 
complicated  bandages  to  which  all  brigands  are  peculiarly  attached. 
It  was  pleasing  to  see  his  open  and  ingenuous  countenance,  well  mus- 
tached  and  corked,  looking  out  from  an  open  shirt  collar ;  and  to 
contemplate  the  sugar-loaf  hat,  decorated  with  ribands  of  all  colours, 
which  he  was  compelled  to  carry  on  his  knee,  inasmuch  as  no  known 
conveyance  with  a  top  to  it,  would  admit  of  any  man's  carrying  it  be- 
tween his  head  and  the  roof  Equally  humorous  and  agreeable  was 
the  appearance  of  Mr.  Snodgrass  in  blue  satin  trunks  and  cloak,  white 
silk  tights,  and  shoes,  and  Grecian  helmet,  which  every  body  knows 
(and  if  they  do  not,  Mr.  Solomon  Lucas  did)  to  have  been  the  regular, 
authentic,  every-day  costume  of  a  troubadour,  from  the  earliest  age.s 
down  to  the  time  of  their  final  disappearance  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 
All  this  was  pleasant,  but  this  was  as  nothing  compared  with  the  shout- 
ing of  the  populace  when  the  carriage  drew  up,  behind  Mr.  Pott's  cha- 


THE  PICEWICK  CLUB.  151 

riot,  which  chariot  itself  drew  up  at  Mr.  Pott's  door,  which  door  itself 
opened,  and  displayed  the  great  Pott  accoutred  as  a  Russian  officer  of 
justice,  with  a  tremendous  knout  in  his  hand — tastefully  typical  of  the 
stern  and  mighty  power  of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  and  the  fearful  lash- 
ingslt  bestowed  on  public  oflenders. 

*' Bravo  !"  shouted  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  from  the  pas- 
sage, when  they  beheld  the  walking  allegory. 

**  Bravo  I''  Mr.  Pickwick  was  heard  to  exclaim,  from  the  passage 

"  Hoo-roar  Pott,"  shouted  the  populace.  Amid  these  salutations. 
Mr.  Pott,  smiling  with  that  kind  of  bland  dignity  which  sufficiently 
testified  that  he  felt  his  power,  and  knew  how  to  exert  it,  got  into  the 
chariot. 

Then  there  emerged  from  the  house,  Mrs.  Pott,  who  would  have 
looked  very  like  Apollo  if  she  hadn't  had  a  gown  on  :  conducted  by  Mr. 
Winkle,  who  in  his  light  red  coat,  could  not  possibly  have  been  mista- 
ken for  any  thing  but  a  sportsman,  if  he  had  not  borne  an  equal  resem- 
blance to  a  ^neral  postman.  Last  of  all,  came  Mr.  Pickwick,  whom 
the  boys  applauded  as  loudly  as  any  body,  probably  under  the  impres- 
sion that  his  tights  and  gaiters  were  some  remnants  of  the  dark  ages  ; 
and  then  the  two  vehicles  proceeded  towards  Mrs,  Leo  Hunter's.  Mr. 
Weller  (who  was  to  assist  in  waiting)  being  stationed  on  the  box  oi 
that  in  which  his  master  was  seated. 

Every  one  of  the  men,  women,  boys,  girls,  and  babies,  who  were  as- 
sembled to  see  the  visiters  in  their  fancy  dresses,  screamed  with  delight 
and  ecstasy,  when  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the  brigand  on  one  arm,  and 
the  troubadour  on  the  other,  walked  solemnly  up  the  entrance.  Xever 
were  such  shouts  heard,  as  tliose  which  greeted  Mr.  Tupman's  eftbrta 
lo  fix  the  sugar-loaf  hat  on  his  head,  by  way  of  entering  the  garden  in 
style. 

The  preparations  were  on  the  most  delightful  scale  ;  fully  realizing 
the  prophetic  Pott's  anticipations  about  the  gorgeousness  of  Eastera 
Fairy-land,  and  at  once  affording  a  sufficient  contradiction  to  the  malig- 
nant statements  of  the  reptile  Independent.  The  e^rounds  were  more 
than  an  acre  and  a  quarter  in  extent,  and  they  were  filled  with  people  ! 
Never  wa.s  such  a  blaze  of  beauty,  and  fashion,  and  literature.  There 
was  the  young  lady  who  "did''  the  poetry  in  the  Eatanswill  Gazette-, 
in  the  garb  of  a  sultana,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  the  young  gentle- 
man who  "  did  "  the  review  department,  and  who  was  appropriately 
habited  in  a  field  marshal's  uniform — the  boots  excepted.  There  were 
bests  of  these  geniuses,  and  any  reasonable  person  would  have  thofight 
it  honour  enough  to  meet  them.  But  more  than  these,  there  were  half- 
a-dozen  lions  from  London — authors,  real  authors,  who  had  written 
whole  books,  and  printed  them  afterward — and  here  you  might  see 
'em,  walking  about,  like  ordinary  men,  smiling  and  talking — ay,  and 
talking  pretty  considerable  nonsense  too,  no  doubt  with  the  benign  in- 
tention of  rendering  themselves  intelligible  to  tltc  common  people  about 
them.  Moreover,  there  was  a  band  of  niusic  in  pasteboard  caps  ;  four 
something-ean  singers  in  the  costume  of  their  country,  and  a  dozen 
hired  waiters  in  the  costume  of  thetr  country — and  ver}'  dirty  costume 
too.  And  above  all,  there  was  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  in  the  character  ol 
Minerva,  receiving  the  con>pany,  and  overflowing  with  pride  and  gra- 
tification at  the  notion  of  having  called  such  distinguished  individuals 
together. 

"Mr.  Pickwick,  ma'am,"  said  a  servant,   as  that  gentleman   ap- 


152  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  O? 

proached  the  presiding  goddess,  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  and  the  bri' 
gand  and  troubadour  on  cither  arm. 

"What — where!'  exclaimed  Mra.  Leo  Hunter,  starting  up,  in  an 
aflfected  rapture  of  surprise. 

"  Here,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Is  it  possible  that  I  have  really  the  gratification  of  beholding  Mj. 
Pickwick  liimself  I"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter. 

♦'  No  other,  ma'am,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  bowing  very  low.  "  Per- 
mit me  to  introduce  my  friends — Mr.  Tupman — Mr  Winkle — Mr. 
Snodgrass — to  the  authoress  of  '  The  E.vpiring  Frog.' '" 

A'ery  few  people  but  those  who  have  tried  it,  know  what  a  difficult 
process  it  is,  to  bow  in  green  vt-ivet  smalls,  and  a  tight  jacket  and 
high  crowned-hat,  or  in  blue  satin  trunks  and  white  silks,  or  knee-cords 
and  top-boots  that  were  never  made  for  the  wearer,  and  have  been  fixed 
upon  him  without  the  remotest  reference  to  the  comparative  dimensions 
of  himself  and  the  suit.  Never  were  such  distortions  as  Mr.  Tup- 
man's  frame  undcrwentin  his  ellorts  to  appear  easy  a*l  graceful — 
never  was  such  ingenious  posturing,  as  his  fancy-dressed  friends  ex- 
hibited. 

"  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  "  I  must  make  you  promise- 
hot  to  stir  from  my  side  the  whole  day.  There  are  hundreds  of  peo- 
ple here,  that  I  must  positively  introduce  you  to."  , 

'•  You  are  very  kind,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

<♦  In  the  first  place,  here  are  my  little  girls  ;  I  had  almost  forgotten 
them,"  said  Minerva,  carelessly  pointing  towards  a  couple  of  full-grown 
young  ladies,  of  whom  one  might  be  about  twenty,  and  the  other  a  year 
or  two  older,  and  who  were  dressed  in  very  juveniie  costumes — whe- 
ther to  make  them  look  young,  or  their  mamma  younger,  Mr.  Pickwick 
docs  not  distinctly  inform  us.  — 

''  They  are  very  beautiful,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the  juveniles 
turned  away,  after  being  presented. 

"  They  are  very  like  their  mamma,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  majestically. 

"Oh!  you  naughty  man,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  playfully 
tapping  the  editor's  arm  with  her  fan.  (Alinerva  with  a  fan  ') 

*'  Why  now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Hunter,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  who  was  trum- 
peter in  ordinary  at  the  Den,  "  you  know  that  when  your  picture  was 
in  the  Exhibition  of  the  Royal  Academy,  last  year,  ever}-  body  inquired 
whether  it  was  intended  for  you,  or  your  youngest  daughter  ;  for  you 
were  so  much  alike,  that  there  was  no  telling  the  diHerence  between 
you." 

*'  W'ell,  and  if  they  did,  why  need  3'ou  repeat  it  before  strangers  1" 
said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  bestowing  another  tap  on  the  slumbering  lioa 
of  the  Eatanswill  Gazette. 

'^  Count,  Count!"  screamed  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  to  a  well-whiskered 
individual  in  a  foreign  uniform,  who  was  passing  by. 

"  Ah  !  you  want  me  ■''  said  the  count,  turning  back. 

"  I  want  to  introduce  two  very  clever  people  to  each  other,''  said 
Mrs.  Leo  Hunter.  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  have  great  pleasure  in  introducing 
you  to  Count  Smorltork."  She  added  in  a  hurried  whisper  to  Mr. 
Pickwick — "the  famous  foreigner — gathering  materials  for  his  great 
work  on  England — hem? — Count  Smorltork,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

Mr.  Pickwick  saluted  the  count  with  all  the  reverence-  due  to  so 
great  a  man,  and  the  count  drew  forth  a  set  of  tablets. 

*'  What  you  say,  Mrs.  Hunt .'"  inquired  the  Count,  smiling  gra- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  133 

clously  on  the  gratified  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter.  '•  Pig  Vig  or  Big  Vig — 
what  you  call — lawyer,  eh!  I  gee — that  is  it,  BigVifr;"  and  the 
count  was  proceeding  to  enter  .Mr.  Pickwick  in  .his  tablets  as  a  aen- 
tleman  of  the  long  robe,  who  derived  his  name  from  the  profession  to 
which  he  belonged,  when  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  interposed. 

"  No,  no,  Count,"  said  the  lady,  "  Pick-wif-lc." 

"Ah,  ah,  I  see,"  replied  the  count,  "Peek — Christian  name; — 
Weeks — surname  ;  good,  ver  good.  Peek  Weeks.  How  you  do, 
Weeks  1" 

"  Quite  well,  I  thank  you,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  all  his  usual 
affability.     "  Have  you  been  long  in  England  V 

*'  Long — ver  long  time — fortnight — more." 
*  "  Do  you  stay  here  long  ]" 

*'  One  week." 

"You  will  have  enough  to  do,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smilin<T,  "to 
gather  all  the  materials  you  want  in  that  time." 

"  Eh,  they  are  gathered,"  said  the  count. 

"  Indeed  !"  said  Mr  Pickwick. 
?   "  They  are  here,"  added  the  count,  tapping  his  forehead  sigrniticantly. 
"w  Large  book  at  home — full  of  notes — music,  picture,  science,  poetry, 
poltic  ;  all  lings." 

''The  word  politics,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "comprises  in  itself  a 
difficult  study  of  no  inconsiderable  magnitude." 

"  Ah  !"  said  the  count,  drawing  out  the  tablets  a^ain,  "  ver  good — 
fine  words  to  begin  a  chapter.  Chapter  forty-seven.  Poltics.  The 
word  poltic  surprises  by  himself — "  And  down  went  Mr.  Pickwick's 
remark,  in  Count  Smoltork's  tablets,  with  such  variations  and  additions 
as  the  count's  exuberant  fancy  suggested,  or  his  imperfect  knowledge 
of  the  lancruage  occasioned. 

"  Count,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter. 

"  Mrs.  Hunt,"  replied  the  count. 

**This  is  Mr.  Snodgrass,  a  friend  of  Mr.  Pickwick's,  and  a  poet." 

"  Stop,"  exclaimed  the  count,  bringing  out  the  tablets  once  more. 
"Head,  poetry — chapter,  literary  friends — name,  Snow^rass  ;  v«r  ffood. 
Introduced  to  Snowgrass — great  poet,  friend  of  Peek  Weeks — by '.Mrs. 
Hunt,  which  wrote  other  sweet  ptjem — what  is  that  name — Frog — 
Perspiring  Frog — ver  good — ver  good  indeed."  And  the  count  put 
up  his  tablets,  and  with  sundry  bows  and  acknowledgments  walked 
away,  thoroughly  .safi-efied  that  he  had  made  the  most  important  and 
valuable  additions  to  his  stock  of  information. 

"  Wonderful  man.  Count  Smorltork,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter. 

"  Sound  philosopher,"  said  Pott. 

"  Clear-heaiJcd,  strong-minded  person,"  added  Mr.  Snodprass. 

"  A  chorus  of  by-standers  took  up  the  shout  of  Count  Smorltork's 
praise,  shook  their  heads  sagely,  and  unanimously  cried  "  Very." 

As  the  enthusiasm  in  Count  Smorltork's  favour  ran  very  high,  his 
praises  might  have  been  sung  until  the  end  of  the  festivities,'if  the 
four  something-ean  singers  had  not  ranged  themselves  in  front  of  a  small 
apple-tree,  to  look  picturesque,  and  commenced  singing  their  national 
songs,  which  appeared  by  no  means  difBcjIt  of  execution,  inasmuch  as 
the  grand  secret  seemed  to  bp.  that  three  of  the  something-ean  sii)«,rers 
should  grunt,  while  the  fourth  howled.  This  interesting^ performance 
ha\-ing  concluded  amidst  the  loud  plaudits  of  the  whole  company,  a  bov 
forthwith  proceeded  to  entangle  himself  with  the  rails  of  a  chair,  ariii 


154  POSTHOMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

to  jump  over  it,  and  to  crawl  under  it,  and  fall  down  with  it,  and  to  5o 
every  thing  but  sit  upon  it,  and  then  to  make  a  cravat  of  his  legs,  and 
tie  them  round  his  neck,  and  then  to  illustrate  the  ease  with  which  a 
human  being  can  be  made  to  look  like  a  magnified  toad — all  which  feats 
yielded  high  delight  and  satisfaction  to  the  assembled  spectators.  After 
which,  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Pott  was  heard  to  chirp  faintly  forth,  some- 
thing which  courtesy  interpreted  into  a  song,  which  was  all  very  clas- 
sical, and  strictly  in  character,  because  Apollo  was  himself  a  composer, 
and  composers  can  very  seldom  sing  their  own  music  or  any  body 
else's  either.  This  was  succeeded  by  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's  recitation  of 
her  far-famed  Ode  to  an  Expiring  Frog,  which  was  encored  once,  and 
■would  have  been  encored  twice,  if  the  major  part  of  the  guests,  who 
thought  it  was  high  time  to  get  something  to  eat,  had  not  said  that  it 
was  perfectly  shameful  to  take  advantage  of  Mrs.  Hunter's  good  nature. 
So,  although  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  professed  her  perfect  willingness  to 
recite  the  ode  again,  her  kind  and  considerate  friends  wouldn't  hear  of 
it  on  any  account ;  and  the  refreshment  room  being  thrown  open,  all 
the  people  who  had  ever  been  there  before,  scrambled  in  with  all 
possible  despatch :  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's  usual  course  of  proceeding 
being,  to  issue  cards  for  a  hundred,  and  breakfast  for  fifty,  or  in  other 
words  to  feed  only  the  very  particular  lions,  and  let  the  smaller  animals 
take  care  of  themselves. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Potti"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  as  she  placed  the 
aforesaid  lions  around  her. 

"  Here  I  am,"  said  the  editor,  from  the  very  farthest  end  of  the  room  ; 
far  beyond  aU  hope  of  food,  unless  something  was  done  for  him  by  the 
hostess.     "  Won't  you  come  up  here  I" 

"  Oh  pray  don't  mind  him,"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  in  the  most  obliging 
voice — "  you  give  yourself  a  great  deal  of  unnecessary  trouble,  Mrs. 
Hunter.     You'll  do  very  well  there,  won't  you — dear." 

"Certainly — love,"  replied  the  unhappy  Pott,  with  a  grim  smile. 
Alas  for  the  knout  I  The  nervous  arm  that  wielded  it,  with  such 
gigantic  force  upon  public  characters,  was  paralyzed  beneath  the  glance 
of  the  imperious  Mrs.  Pott. 

"  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  looked  round  her,  in  triumph.  Count  Smorl- 
tork  was  busily  engaged  in  taking  notes  of  the  contents  of  the  dishes  ; 
Mr.  Tupman  was  doing  the  honours  of  the  lobster  salad  to  several 
lionesses,  with  a  degree  of  grace  which  no  brigand  ever  exhibited  be« 
fore  ;  Mr.  Snodgrass  having  cut  out  the  young  gen,tleman  who  cut  up 
the  books  for  the  Eatanswill  Gazette,  was  engaged  in  an  impassioned 
argument  with  the  young  lady  who  did  the  poetry  ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  making  himself  universally  agreeable.  Nothing  seemed  wanting 
to  render  the  select  circle  complete,  when  Mr.  Leo  Hunter,  whose  de- 
partment on  these  occasions  was  to  stand  about  in  door-ways,  and  talk 
to  the  less  important  people — suddenly  called  out — 

"  My  dear  ;  here's  Mr.  Charles  Fitzmarshall." 

"  O  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter,  "  how  anxiously  I  have  been  ex- 
pecting hizu  !  Pray  make  room  to  let  .Mr.  Filzmarshail  pass.  Tell  Mr. 
jFitzmarshall,  my  dear,  to  come  up  to  me  directly,  to  be  scolded  for 
coming  so  late." 

"  Coming,  my  dear  ma'am,"  cried  a  voice,  "  as  quick  as  I  can — 
crowds  of  people — full  room — hard  work — very." 

Mr.  Pickwick's  knife  and  fork  fell  from  his  hand.  He  stared  across 
the  table  at  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  dropped  his  knife  and  fork,  and  was 


THE    PICKWICK    CLCB.  155 

looking  as  if  he  were  about  to  sink  into  the  ground  without  farther 
notice. 

*•  Ah  !"  cried  the  voice,  as  its  owner  pushed  his  way  among  the  last 
five-and-twenty  Turks,  othcers,  cavaliers,  and  Charles  the  Seconds, 
that  remained  between  him  and  the  table,  "  regular  mangle — Baker's 
patent — not  a  crease  in  my  coat  after  all  this  squeezing — might  have 
'  got  up  my  linen  as  I  came  along' — ha  !  ha  !  not  a  bad  idea,  that — 
queer  thing  to  have  it  mangled  when  it's  upon  one,  though — tr>'ing 
process — very." 

With  these  broken  words,  a  young  man  dressed  as  a  naval  officer 
made  his  way  up  to  the  table,  and  presented  to  the  astonished  Pick- 
wickians,  the  identical  form  and  features  of  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle. 

The  offender  had  barely  time  to  take  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter's  proffered 
hand,  when  his  eyes  encountered  the  indignant  orbs  of  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Hallo  !"  said  Jingle.  "  Quite  forgot — no  directions  to  postilion — 
give  'em  at  once — back  in  a  minute." 

'*  The  servant  or  Mr.  Hunter  will  do  it  in  a  moment,  Mr.  Fitzmar- 
shall,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter. 

'*  No,  no — I'll  do  it — shan't  be  long — back  in  no  time,"  replied  Jin- 
gle.    With  these  words,  he  disappeared  among  the  crowd. 

'*  Will  you  allow  me  to  ask  you,  ma'am,"  said  the  excited  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, rising  from  his  seat,  •♦  who  that  young  man  is,  and  where  he 
resides  !" 

*'  He  is  a  gentleman  of  fortune,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Mrs.  Leo  Hun- 
ter, "  to  whom  I  very  much  want  to  introduce  you.  The  count  will 
be  delighted  with  him." 

**  Yes,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily.     "  His  residence — " 

"  Is  at  present  at  the  Angel  at  Bury." 

"At  Bury?" 

**  At  Bury  St.  Edmunds,  not  many  miles  from  here.  But  dear  me, 
Mr.  Pickwick,  you  are  not  going  to  leave  us  :  surely,  Mr.  Pickwick, 
you  cannot  think  of  going  so  sjon." 

But  long  before  Mrs.  Leo  Hunter  had  finished  speaking,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick had  plunged  through  the  throng,  and  reached  the  garden,  whither 
he  was  shortly  afterward  joined  by  Mr.  Tupman,  who  had  followed  his 
friend  closely. 

'*  It's  of  no  use,"  said  Mr.  Tupman.     "  He  has  gone." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  and  I  will  follow  him." 

*'  Follow  him.     Where  1"  inquired  Mr.  Tupman. 

♦'  To  the  Angel  at  Bury,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  speaking  very 
quickly.  "  How  do  we  know  whom  he  is  deceiving  there  ?  He  de- 
ceived a  v/orthy  man  once,  and  we  were  the  innocent  cause.  He  shall 
not  do  it  again,  if  I  can  help  it ;  I'll  expose  him.  Sam  !  Where's 
my  servant !"  * 

"  Here  you  are,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  emerging  from  a  sequestered 
spot,  where  he  had  been  engaged  in  discussing  a  bottle  of  Madeira, 
which  he  had  abstracted  from  the  breakfast-table,  an  hour  or  two 
before.  "  Here's  your  servant,  sir.  Proud  o'  the  title,  as  the  Living 
Skellinton  said,  ven  they  show'd  him." 

♦'  P'ollow  me  instantly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Tupman,  if  I  stay  at 
Bury,  you  ran  join  rac  there,  when  I  write.     Till  then,  good-bye." 

Remonstrances  were  useless.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  roused,  and  his 
mind  was  made  up.  Mr.  Tupman  returned  to  his  companions  ;  and  in 
another  hour  had  drowned  all  present  recollection  of  Mr.  Alfred  Jingle, 


156  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

or  Mr.  Charles  Fitzmarshall,  in  an  exhilarating  quadrille  and  a  bottle 
of  champatTue.  By  that  tirno,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  Waller,  perched 
on  the  outside  of  a  stage  coach,  were  every  succeeding  minute  placing 
a  less  and  less  distance  between  themselves  and  the  good  old  town  of 
Bury  Saint  Edmunds. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

TOO  FULL  OF  ADVENTURES  TO  BE  BRIEFLY  DESCRIBED. 

There  is  no  month  in  the  whole  year  in  which  nature  wears  a  more 
beautiful  appearance  than  in  the  month  of  August.  Spring  has  many 
beauties,  and  May  is  a  fresh  and  blooming  month,  but  the  charms  of 
this  time  of  year  are  enhanced  by  their  contrast  with  the  winter  season, 
August  has  no  such  advantage.  It  comes  when  we  remember  nothing 
but  clear  skies,  green  fields,  and  sweet-smelling  flowers — when  the 
recollection  of  snow,  and  ice,  and  bleak  winds,  has  faded  from  oux 
minds  as  completely  as  they  have  disappeared  from  the  earth, — and  yet 
what  a  pleasant  time  it  is.  Orchards  and  corn-fields  ring  with  the 
hum  of  labour  ;  trees  bend  beneath  the  thick  clusters  of  rich  fruit  which 
bow  their  branches  to  the  ground ;  and  the  corn,  piled  in  graceful 
.sheaves,  or  waving  in  every  light  breath  that  sweeps  above  it,  as  if  it 
wooed  the  sickle,  tinges  the  landscape  with  a  golden  hue.  A  mellow 
softness  appears  to  hang  over  the  whole  earth ;  the  influence  of  the ' 
seasons  seems  to  extend  itself  to  the  very  wagon,  whose  slow  motion 
across  the  well-reaped  field,  is  perceptible  only  to  the  eye,  but  strikes 
with  Tio  harsh  sound  upon  the  ear. 

As  the  coach  rolls  swiftly  past  the  fields  and  orchards  which  skirt 
the  road,  groups  of  women  and  children,  piling  the  fruit  in  sieves,  oi 
gathering  the  scattered  ears  of  corn,  pause  for  an  instant  from  their 
labour,  and  shading  the  sun-burnt  face  with  a  slill  browner  hand,  gaze 
upon  the  passengers  with  curious  eyes,  while  some  stout  urchin,  too 
small  to  work,  but  too  mischievous  to  be  left  at  homo,  scrambles  over 
the  side  of  the  basket  in  which  he  has  been  deposited  for  security,  and 
kicks  and  screams  with  delight.  The  reaper  stops  in  his  work,  and 
Stands  with  folded  arms,  looking  at  the  vehicle  as  it  whirls  past ;  and 
the  rough  cart  horses  bestow  a  sleepy  glance  upon  the  smart  coach  team, 
which  says,  as  plainly  as  a  horse's  glance  can.  "  It's  all  very  fine  to 
look  at,  but  slow  going,  over  a  heavy  field,  is  better  than  warm  work 
like  thatfupon  a  dusty  road,  after  all."'  You  cast  a  look  behind  you, 
as  you  turn  a  corner  of  the  road.  The  women  and  children  have  re- 
sumed their  labour,  the  reaper  once  more  stoops  to  his  work,  the  cart 
horses  have  moved  on.  and  all  are  again  in  motion. 

The  influence  of  a  scene  like  this  was  not  lost  upon  the  well  regulated 
mind  of  Mr.  Pickwick.  Intent  upon  the  resolution  he  had  formed  of 
exposing  the  real  character  of  the  nefarious  Jinule.  in  any  quarter  in 
which  he  might  be  pursuing  his  fraudulent  designs,  he  sat  at  first 
taciturn  and  contemplative,  brooding  over  the  means  by  which  his 
purpose  could  be  best  attained.  By  degrees  his  attention  grew  more 
and  more  attracted  by  the  objects  around  hiin  ;  and  at  last  he  derived 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB,  157 

as  much  enjoyment  from  the  ride  as  if  it  had  been  undertaken  for  the 
pleasantest  reason  in  the  world. 

"  Delightful  prospect,  Sara,"  said  Mr.  Pickwicli. 

*'  Beats  the  chimbly  pots,  sir,"  replied  .Mr.  Weller,  touching  his  hat. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  hardly  seen  any  thing  but  chimney-pots  and 
bricks  and  mortar,  all  your  life,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  smiling. 

"  I  worn't  always  a  boots,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  shake  of  the 
head.     "  I  was  a  vagginer's  boy,  once." 

"When  was  that  !"'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

♦'  When  I  vas  first  pitched  neck  and  crop  into  the  world,  to  play  at 
leap-frog  with  its  troubles,"  replied  Sam.  "  I  vas  a  carrier's  boy  ^ 
startin' :  then  a  vagginer's,  then  a  helper,  then  a  boo^s.  Now  I'm  a 
gen'lm'n's  servant.  I  shall  be  a  gen'lm'n  myself  one  of  these  days, 
perhaps,  with  a  pipe  in  my  mouth,  and  a  summer-house  in  the  back 
garden.      Who  knows  ■     /  shouldn't  be  surprised  for  one."' 

"You  are  quite  a  philosopher.  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  It  runs  in  the  family,  I  b'lieve  sir,'*  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "  My 
father's  werry  much  in  that  line,  now.  If  my  mother-in-law  blows  him 
up,  he  whistles.  She  flies  in  a  passion,  and  breaks  his  pipe  ;  he  steps 
out  and  gets  another.  Then  she  screams  werry  loud,  and  falls  into 
'sterics  ;  and  he  smokes  werry  comfortably  till  she  comes  to  again. 
That's  philosophy  sir,  an't  it  ]'' 

'*'  A  very  good  substitute  for  it,  at  all  events,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
laughin-^.  "  It  must  have  been  of  great  service  to  you,  in  the  course 
of  your  rambling  life,  Sam.'* 

•'  Service,  sir,"  exclaimed  Sam.  "  You  may  say  that.  Arter  I  run 
away  from  the  carrier,  and  afore  I  took  up  with  the  vagginer,  I  had 
unfurnished  lodgin's  for  a  fortnight.'' 

''Unfurnished  lodgings'"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Yes — llie  dry  arches  of  Waterloo  Bridge.  Fine  slcepin-place — 
vithin  ten  minutes'  walk  of  all  the  public  offices — only  if  there  is  any 
objection  to  it,  it  is  that  the  sitivation's  raythcr  too  airy.  I  see  some 
queer  sights  there.'' 

"  Ah,  I  suppose  you  did,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  air  of  con- 
siderable interest. 

"  Sights,  sir,"'  resumed  Mr.  Weller,  "  as  *ud  penetrate  your  benevo- 
lent heart,  and  come  out  on  the  other  side.  You  don't  see  the  reg'lar 
Nvagrants  there  ;  trust  'em,  they  knows  better  than  that.  Young  beg- 
gars, male  and  ifemale,  as  hasn't  made  a  rise  in  their  profession,  takei 
up  their  quarters  there  sometimes  ;  but  it's  generally  the  worn-out, 
starving,  houseless  creeturs  as  rolls  themselves  up  in  the  dark  corners 
o'  them  lonesome  places — poor  creeturs  as  an't  up  to  the  twopenny 
rope." 

"And  pray,  Sam,  what  is  the  twopenny  rope?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  The  twopenny  rope,  sir,''  replied  Mr.  Weller,  "  is  ju.st  a  cheap 
lodgin'-house,  vere  the  beds  is  two-pence  a  nifjht." 

'*  What  do  they  call  a  bed  a  rope  for  ?"  saidMr.  Pickwick. 

"  Bless  your  innocence,  sir,  that  a'n't  it,"  replied  Sam.  "  Ven  the 
lady  and  gen'lmn  as  keeps  the  hot-el,  first  begun  business,  they  used 
to  make  the  beds  on  the  floor  ;  but  this  wouldn't  do  at  no  price,  'cos 
instead  o'  taking  a  moderate  twopenn'orth  o'  sleep,  the  lodgers  used  to 
lie  there  half  the  day.  So  now  they  has  two  ropes,  'bout  six  foot 
apart,  and  three  from  the  floor,  which  goes  r'ljht  down  the  room  ;  and 
ihe  beds  are  made  of  slips  of  coarse  sacking,  stretched  across  'em." 

Vol.  I.— U 


168  POSTH'JMOUS    PAPERS    OV 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

•*  Well,"  said  jMr.  VV^eller,  "the  adwantage  o' the  plan's  hobvioofl. 
Al  six  o'clock  every  inornin',  they  lets  go  the  ropes  at  one  end,  and 
down  falls  all  the  lodirers.  Consequence  is,  that  being  thoroughly 
waked,  they  get  up  werry  quietly,  and  walk  away  !"' 

♦•  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Sam  suddenly  breaking  off  in  hia 
loquacious  discourse      "  fs  this  Bury  Saint  Edmunds'?" 

"  It  is,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

The  coach  rattled  through  the  well-paved  streets  of  a  handsome 
little  town,  of  thriving  and  cleanly  appearance,  and  stopped  before  a 
large  inn  situated  in  a  wide  open  street,  nearly  facing  the  old  abbey. 

"  And  this,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  up,  "  is  the  Angel.  We 
alight  here,  Sara.  But  some  caution  is  necessary.  Order  a  private 
room,  and  do  not  mention  my  name.     You  understand." 

"  Right  as  a  trivet,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  wink  of  intelli- 
gence ;  and  having  drairged  Mr.  Pickwick's  portmanteau  from  the 
hind  boot,  into  which  it  had  been  hastily  thrown  when  they  joined  the 
coach  at  Eatanswill,  Mr.  W'eller  disappeared  on  his  errand.  A  private 
room  was  speedily  -engaged  ;  and  into  it  Mr.  Pickwick  was  ushered 
without  delay. 

"  Now,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  *'  the  first  thing  to  be  done  is  to — " 

"  Order  dinner,  sir."  interposed  .^Ir.  Weller.      "  It's  werry  late,  sir." 

•'Ah,  sjo  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  his  watch.  ''You 
are  right,  Sam." 

"  And  if  I  might  adwise,  sir,"  added  Mr.  Weller,  "  I'd  just  have  a 
good  night's  rest  arterwards.  and  not  begin  inquiring  arter  this  here 
deep  'un  'till  the  inornin'.  There's  nothiu'  so  refreshin'  as  sleep,  sir, 
as  the  servant-girl  said  afore  she  drank  the  egg-cup-full  o'  laudanum." 

"  I  think  you  are  right,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "But  I  must 
first  ascertain  that  he  is  in  the  house,  and  not  likely  to  go  away." 

"  Leave  that  to  me,  sir,"  said  Sam.  "  Let  me  order  you  a  snug 
little  dinner,  and  make  my  inquiries  below  while  it's  a  getting  ready ; 
I  could  worm  ev'ry  secret  out  o'  the  boots'  heart  in  five  minutes." 

"  Do  so,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  and  Mr.  Weller  at  once  retired. 

In  half  an  hour,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  seated  at  a  very  satisfactory 
dinner :  and  in  three-quarters  Mr.  Weller  returned  with  the  intelli- 
gence that  Mr.  Charles  Fitzmarshall  had  ordered  his  private  room  to 
be  retained  Car  him,  until  farther  notice.  He  was  going  to  spend  the 
evening  at  some  private  house  in  the  neighbourhood,  iKid  ordered  the 
boots  to  sit  up  until  his  return,  and  had  taken  his  servant  with  him. 

"  Now,  sir,''  argued  Mr.  Weller,  when  he  had  concluded  his  report, 
'•  if  I  can  get  a  talk  with  this  here  servant  in  the  mornin',  he'll  tell  me 
all  his  master's  concerns." 

"How  do  yoru  know  that  ■?"  interposed  Mr.   Pickwick. 

"  Blesi  your  heart,  sir,  servants  always  do,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Oh,  ah,  I  forgot  that,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.—"  Well." 

"  Then  you  can  arrange  what's  best  to  be  done,  sir,  and  we  can  act 
accordingly." 

As  it  appeared  that  this  was  the  best  arrangement  that  could  be 
made,  it  was  finally  agreed  upon.  Mr.  Weller,  by  his  master's  per- 
mission, retired  to  spend  the  evening  in  his  own  way  ;  and  was  shortly 
afterward  elected,  by  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  assembled  company, 
into  the  tap--oom  chair,  in'which  honourable  post  he  acquitted  himself 
so  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  gentlemen-frequenters,  that  their 


THE  PICKWICK  CLCB.  159 

roars  of  laughter  and  approbation  penetrated  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  bed- 
room, and  shortened  the  term  of  his  natural  rest  by  at  least  three  hours. 

Early  on  the  ensuing  morninir,  Mr.  Weller  was  dispelling  all  the 
feverish  remains  of  the  previous  evenin'j's  conviviality,  thronirh  the 
instrumentality  of  a  halfpenny  shower-bath  (Waving  induced  a  young 
-gentleman  attached  to  the  stable-department,  by  the  offer  of  thra  ci)in, 
to  pump  over  his  head  and  face,  until  he  was  perfectly  restored,)  when 
he  was  attracted  by  the  appearance  of  a  young  fellow  in  mulberry 
coloured  livery,  who  was  sitting  on  a  bench  in  the  yard,  reading  what 
appeared  to  be  a  hymn-book,  with  an  air  of  deep  ab.straction,  but  who 
occasionally  stole  a  glance  at  the  individual  unJer  the  pump,  as  if  he 
took  some  interest  in  his  proceedings,  nevertheless. 

"  You're  a  rum  'un  to  look  at,  you  are,"  thought  Mr.  Weller,  the 
first  time  his  eyes  encountered  the  glance  of  the  stranger  in  the  mul- 
berry coloured  suit,  who  had  a  large,  sallo\r,  ugly  face,  very  sunken 
eyes,  and  a  gitrantic  head,  from  which  depended  a  quantity  of  lank 
black  hair.  "  You're  a  rum  'uii,"  thought  Mr.  Weller;  and  thinking 
this,  he  went  on  washing  himself,  and  thought  no  more  about  him. 

Still  the  man  kept  glancing 'from  his  hymn-book  to  Sam,  and  from 
Sam  to  his  hymn-book,  as  if  he  wanted  to  open  a  conversation  So 
at  last,  Sam,  by  way  of  giving  him  an  opportunity,  said,  with  a 
familiar  nod — 

"  How  are  you,  governor  V 

"  I  am  Ijappy  to  say,  I  am  pretty  well,  sir,"  said  the  man,  speaking 
with  great  deliberation,  and  closing  the  book.  "  I  hope  you  are  the 
same,  sir !" 

*'  Why,  if  if  felt  less  like  a  walking  brandy  bottle,  I  shouldn't  be 
quite  so  slagtjery  this  mornin',"  replied  Sam.  "  Arc  you  stoppm'  in 
this  house,  old  'un  V 

The  mulberry  man  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"'-low  was  it,  ynj  worn't  one  of  us,  last  night!"  inquired  Sam, 
scrubbinfr  his  face  with  the  towel,  '^  You  seem  one  of  the  jolly  sort — 
looks  as  coriwivial  as  a  live  trout  in  a  lime-basket,"  added  Mr.  Weller 
in  an  under  tone. 

"  I  was  out  last  night  with  my  master,"  replied  the  stangor. 

"What's  his  name?"  inquired  Mr.  Weller,  colouring  up  very  red 
with  suddert  excitement,  and  the  friction  of  the  towel  combined. 

*'  Fitzmarshall,"  said  the  mulberry  man. 

"  Give  us  your  hand,"  said  .Mr  Weller,  advancing  ;  "I  should  like 
to  know  you.     I  like  your  appearance,  old  fellow." 

"  Well,  that  is  very  strange,"  ^aid  the  mulberry  man,  with  great 
simplicity  of  manner.  "  I  like  yours  so  mucli,  that  I  wanted  to  speak 
to  you,  from  tlie  very  first  moment  I  saw  you  under  the  pump." 

"  Did  you  thoucrh  ■'■ 

*'  Upon  my  word.     Now,  isn't  that  curious  !" 

"  Werry  sing'Ier,"  said  Sam,  inwardly  congratulating  himself  upon 
the  softness  of  tlie  stranger.     "  What's  your  name,  ray  patriarch  V 

"  Job." 

"  And  a  werry  good  name  it  is  ;  only  one,  I  know,  that  ain't  got  a 
nickname  tx)  it.     What's  the  other  name  ?" 

"Trotter,"  said  tha  stranger.     "  What  i*  yours T' 

Sam  bore  in  mind  his  master's  caution,  and  replied, 

»»  My  name's  Walker;  my  master's  name's.  Wilkins.  Will  you 
take  a  drop  o'  somethin'  this  mornin',  .Mr.  Trotler  ■" 


160  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  or 

Mr.  Trotter  acquiesced  in  this  agreeable  proposal  :  and  having  de- 
posited his  hook  in  his  coat-pocket,  accompanied  Mr.  Wcller  to  the 
tap,  where  they  were  .soon  occupied  in  discussing  an  exhilarating  com- 
pound, formed  by  mixing  together,  in  a  pewter  vessel,  certain  quanti- 
ties of  Britisli  Hollands,  and  the  fragrant  essence  of  the  clove. 

"And  what  sort  of  a  place  have  you  got?"  inquired  Saio,  as  he 
filled  his  conapanion's  glass  for  the  second  time. 

'' B.jd,"  said  Job,  smacking  his  lips,   "very  bad.'* 

"  You  don't  mean  that,"  said  Sam. 

"  I  do,  indeed.     Worse  than  that,  my  master's  going  to  be  married." 

♦'  No." 

"  Yes  ;  and  worse  than  that,  too,  he's  going  to  run  away  with  an 
immense  rich  heiress,  from  boarding-school." 

*'  What  a  dragon,"  said  Sam,  rehlling  his  companion's  glass.  "  It's 
some  boarding-school  in  this  town,  I  suppose,  a'n't  it  ?" 

Now,  although  this  question  was  put  in  the  most  careless  tone 
imaginable, -Mr.  Job  Trotter  plainly  showed,  by  gestures,  that  he  per- 
ceived his  new  friend's  anxiety  to  draw  forth  an  answer  to  it.  He 
emptied  his  glass,  looked  mysteriously 'at  his  companion,  winked  both 
of  his  small  eyes,  one  after  the  other,  and  finally  made  a  motion  with 
his  arm,  as  if  he  were  working  an  imaginary  pump-handle  :  thereby 
intimating  that  he  (Mr.  Trotter)  considered  himself  as  undergoing  the 
process  of  being  pumped  by  Mr.  Samuel  Weller. 

"No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Trotter,  in  conclusion,  "that's  not  to  be  told  to 
every  body.     That  is  a  secret — a  great  secret,  Mr.  Walker." 

As  the  mulberry  man  said  this,  he  turned  his  glass  upside  down,  by- 
way of  reminding  his  companion  that  he  had  nothing  left  v/herewith  to 
slake  his  thirst.  Sam  observed  the  hint ;  and  feeling  the  delicate  man- 
ner in  which  it  was  conveyed,  ordered  the  pewter  vessel  to  be  refilled, 
whereat  the  small  eyes  of  the  mulberry  man  glistened. 

"  And  so  it's  a  secret,"  said  Sam. 

"  I  should  rather  suspect  it  was,"  said  the  mulberry  man,  sipping  his 
liquor,  with  a  complacent  face. 

"  I  suppose  your  mas'r's  very  rich  ?"  said  Sam. 

Mr.  Trotter  smiled,  and  holding  his  glass  in  his  left  hand,  gave  four 
distinct  slaps  on  the  pocket  of  his  mulberry  indescribables  with  his 
right,  as  if  to  intimate  that  his  master  might  have  done  the  same  with- 
out alarming  any  body  much  by  the  chinking  of  coin. 

"  Ah,"  said  Sam,  "  that's  the  game,  is  it  !" 

The  mulberry  man  nodded  significantly. 

«  Well,  and  don't  you  think,  old  feller,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Weller, 
"that  if  you  let  your  master  take  in  this  here  young  lady,  you're  a  pre- 
cious rascal  !" 

'*  I  know  that,"  said  Job  Trotter,  turning  upon  his  companion  a 
countenance  of  deep  contrition,  and  groaning  slightly.  "  I  know  that, 
and  that's  what  it  is  that  preys  upon  my  mind.  But  what  am  I  to  do  ]" 

"  Do  !"  said  Sam  ;  "  di-wulge  to  the  missis,  and  give  up  your  master." 

♦'Who'd  believe  mcV  replied  Job  Trotter.  "The  young  lady's 
considered  the  very  picture  of  innocence  and  discretion.  She'd  deny 
it,  and  so  would  my  master.  Who'd  believe  me  ?  I  .-should  lose  my 
place,  and  get  indicted  for  a  conspiracy,  or  some  such  thing ;  that's  all 
I  should  take  by  my  motion." 

"  There's  so 
tbin'  in  that." 


THE    PICKWICK    CLCO- 


161 


"  If  I  knew  any  respectable  gentleman  who  would  take  the  matter 
up,"  continued  Mr.  Trotter,  "  I  might  have  some  hope  of  preventing 
the  elopement ;  but  there's  the  same  difficulty  Mr.  Walker,  just  the 
same.  I  know  no  gentleman  in  this  strange  place  ;  and  ten  to  one  if 
I  did,  whether  he  would  believe  my  story." 

"  Come  this  way,"  said  Sam,  suddenly  jumping  up,  and  grasping  the 
mulberry  man  bv  the  arm.  *'  My  mas'r's  the  man  you  want,  I  see." 
And  after  a  slight  resistance  on  the  part  of  Job  Trotter,  Sam  led  his 
newl3'  found  friend  to  the  apartment  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  to  whom  he  pre- 
sented him,  together  with  a  brief  summary  of  the  dialogue  we  have 
just  repeated. 

"I  am  ver}'  sorry  to  betray  my  master,  sir."  said  Job  Trotter,  apply- 
ing to  his  eyes  a  pink  check  pocket  handkerchief  of  about  three  inches 
square. 

"  The  feeling  does  you  a  great  deal  of  honour,"  replied  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, "  but  it  is  your  duty  nevertheless." 

*'  I  know  it  is  my  duty,  sir,"  replied  Job,  with  great  emotion.  "  We 
should  all  try  to  discharge  our  duty,  sir,  and  I  humbly  endeavour  to 
discharge  mine,  sir  ;  but  it  is  a  hard  trial  to  betray  a  master,  sir,  whose 
clothes  you  wear,  and  whose  bread  you  eat,  even  though  he  is  a  scoun- 
drel, sir." 

"  You  are  a  very  good  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  much  affected  ; 
"  an  honest  fellow." 

"  Come,  come,"  interposed  Sam,  who  had  witnessed  Mr.  Trotter's 
tears  with  considerable  impatience,  "  blow  this  here  water-cart  busi- 
ness.    It  won't  do  no  good,  this  won't." 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  reproachfully,  "  I  am  sorry  to  find  that 
you  have  so  little  respect  for  this  young  man's  feelings.'' 

"His  feelin's  is  all  werry  well,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  W^eller  ;  *' and  as 
they're  so  werry  fine,  and  it's  a  pity  he  should  lose  'em,  I  think  he'd 
better  keep  'em  in  his  own  bussum,  than  let  'em  ewaporate  in  hot  wa- 
ter, 'specially  as  they  do  no  good.  Tears  never  yet  wound  up  a  clock, 
or  worked  a  steam  ingin'.  The  next  time  you  go  out  to  a  smoking 
party,  young  feller,  fill  your  pipe  with  that  'ere  reflection  ;  and  for  the 
present,  just  put  that  bit  of  pink  gingham  into  your  pocket.  'Tan't 
so  handsome  that  you  need  keep  waving  it  about,  as  if  you  was  a  tight 
rope  dancer." 

''  My  m.an  is  in  the  right,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  accosting  Job,  "  al- 
though his  mode  of  expressing  his  opinion  is  somewhat  homely,  and 
occasionally  incomprehensible." 

"  He  is,  sir,  very  right,"  said  Mr.  Trotter,  "  and  I  will  give  way  no 
longer." 

*'  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Now,  where  is  this  boarding 
school  T" 

"  It  is  a  large,  old,  red  brick  house,  just  outside  the  town,  sir,"  re- 
plied Job  Trotter. 

"  And  when,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  when  is  this  villanous  design  to 
be  carried  into  execution — when  is  this  elopement  to  take  place  V 

"  To-niffht,  sir,"  replied  Job. 

"To-niirht  I''  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

**  This  very  night,  sir,"  replied  Job  Trotter.  "  That  is  what  alarms 
me  so  much." 

"  Instant  measures  must  be  taken,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  '*  I  will 
see  the  lady  who  keeps  the  establishment,  immediate  1  v.'' 

14* 


162  POSTHUMOUS  PAPER'S  Or 

•«  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Job,  "  but  that  Gourae  of  proceeding 
will  never  do. 

"  Why  not  V  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 
"  My  master,  sir,  is  a  very  artful  man." 
♦*  I  know  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  And  he  has  so  wound  himself  rcvmd  the  old  lady's  heart,  sir."  re- 
sumed Job,  "  that  she  would  believe  nothing  to  his  prejudice,  if  you 
went  down  on  your  bare  knees,  and  swore  it ;  especially  as  you  have 
no  proof  but  the  word  of  a  servant,  who,  for  any  thing  she  knows  (and 
my  master  would  be  sure  to  say  so,)  was  discharged  for  some  fault, 
and  does  this  in  revenge." 

♦'  What  had  better  be  done,  then  V  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
•'  Nothing  but  take  him  in  the  very  fact  of  eloping  will  convince  tht 
old  lady,  sir,"  replied  Job. 

"  All  them  old  cats  will  run  their  heads  agin  milestones,"  observed 
Mr.  Weller  in  a  parenthesis. 

'«  But  this  taking  him  in  the  very  act  of  elopement,  would  be  a  very 
difficult  thing  to  accomplish,  I  fear,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,'^  said  Mr.  Trotter,  after  a  few  moments'  reflec- 
tion.    "  I  think  it  might  be  very  easily  done." 
•*  Howl"  was  Mr.  Pickwick's  inquiry. 

"Why,"  replied  Mr.  Trotter,  *'  my  master  and  I,  being  in  the  confi- 
dence of  the  two  servants,  will  be  secreted  in  the  kitchen  at  ten  o'clock. 
When  the  family  have  retired  to  rest,  we  &hallcome  out  of  the  kitchen, 
and  the  young  lady  out  of  her  bed-room.  A  post-chaise  will  be  wait- 
ing, and  away  we  go." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  have  been  thinking  that  if  you  were  waiting  in  the 
garden  behind,  alone — " 

*'  Alone,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  Why  alone  ?' 
"  I  thought  it  very  natural,"  replied  Job,  '*  that  the  old  lady  wouldn't 
like  such  an  unpleasant  discovery  to  be  made  before  more  persons  than 
can  .  possibly   be   helped.      The   young   lady   too,   sir — consider  her 
feelings." 

"You  are  very  right,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "The  consideration 
evinces  great  delicacy  of  feeling.     Go  on  ;  you  are  very  right." 

"Well,  sir,  I  was  thinking  that  if  you  were  waiting  in  the  back 
garden  alone,  and  I  was  to  let  you  in,  at  the  door  which  opens  into  it, 
from  the  end  of  the  passage,  at  exactly  half-past  eleven  o'clock,  you 
would  be  just  in  the  very  moment  of  time,  to  assist  me  in  frustrating 
the  designs  of  this  bad  man,  by  whom  I  have  been  unfortunately  en- 
snared."    Here  Mr.  Trotter  sighed  deeply. 

"Don't  distress  yourself  on  that  account,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "if 
he  had  one  grain  of  the  delicacy  of  feeling  which  distinguishes  you, 
humble  as  your  station  is,  I  should  have  some  hopes  of  him." 

Job  Trotter  bowed  low  ;  and  in  spite  of  Mr.  Weller's  previous  re- 
monstrance, the  tears  again  rose  to  his  eyes. 

"  I  never  see  such  a  feller,"  said  Sam.  "  Blessed  if  I  don't  think 
he's  got  a  main  in  his  head  as  is  always  turned  on." 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  great  severity,  "  Hold  your 
tongue." 

"^erry  well,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  I  don't  like  this  plan,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after  deep  meditation. 
"Why  cannot  I  communicate  with  the  young  lady's  friends?' 


THE  PICKWICK  CLCB.  163 

"  Because  they  live  one  hundred  miles  from  here,  sir,"  responded 
Job  Trotter. 

"  That's  a  clincher,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  aside. 

"  Then  this  garden,''  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  How  am  I  to  get 
into  it  V 

"  The  wall  is  verv  low,  sir,  and  your  servant  will  gire  you  a  leg  up.*' 

"  My  servant  will  give  me  a  leg  up,"  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick,  me- 
chanically.    "You  will  be  sure  to  be  near  this  door,  that  you  speak  of  •"' 

"  You  cannot  mistake  it,  sir  ;  it's  the  only  one  that  opens  into  the 
garden.  Tap  at  it,  when  you  hear  the  clock  strike,  and  I  will  open  it 
instantly." 

"  I  don't  like  the  plan,"'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  but  ais  I  see  no  other, 
and  as  the  happiness  of  this  young  lady's  whole  life  is  at  stake,  I  adopt 
it.     I  shall  be  sure  to  be  there." 

Thus,  for  the  second  time,  did  Mr.  Pickwick's  innate  good  feeling 
involve  him  in  an  enterprise  from  which  he  would  most  willingly  have 
stood  aloof  , 

'♦  What  is  the  name  of  the  house  1"  inquired  Mr.  Rckwick. 

"West  gate  House,  sir.  You  turn  a  little  to  the  right  when  you  jet 
to  the  end  of  the  town  ;  it  stands  by  itself,  some  litlle  distance  off  the 
high  road,  with  the  name  on  a  brass  plate  on  the  gate." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  ^  I  observed  it  once  before,  when 
I  was  in  this  town.     You  may  depend  upon  me." 

Mr.  Trotter  made  another  bow,  and  turned  to  depart,  when  Mr. 
Pickwick  thrust  a  guinea  into  his  hand. 

"  You're  a  fine  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  and  I  admire  your 
goodness  of  heart.     No  thanks.     Remerpber — eleven  o'clock."' 

"  There  is  no  fear  of  my  forgetting  it,  sir,''  replied  Job  Trotter. 
With  these  words  he  left  the  room  followed  by  Sam. 

"  I  say,"  said  the  latter,  "  not  a  bad  notion  that  'ere  crying.  I'd  crj 
like  a  rain-water  spout  in  a  shower,  on  such  good  terms.  How  do  you 
doitr' 

*•  It  comes  from  the  heart,  Mr.  Walker,''  replied  Job,  solemnly. 
"  Good  morning,  sir." 

"  YoCi're  a  soft  customer,  you  are  ; — we're  got  it  all  out  o'  you,  any 
how,"  thought  Mr.  Weller,  as  Job  walked  away. 

We  cannot  state  the  precise  nature  of  the  thoughts  which  passed 
through  Mr.  Trotter's  mind,  because  we  don't  know  what  they  were. 

The  day  wore  on,  evening  came,  and  at  a  little  before  *en  o'clock 
Sam  Weller  reported  that  Mr.  Jingle  and  Job  had  gone  out  together, 
that  their  luggage  was  packed  up,  and  that  they  had  ordered  a  chaise. 
The  plot  was  evidently  in  execution,  as  Mr.  Trotter  had  foretold. 

Half-past  ten  o'clock  arrived,  and  it  was  time  for  Mr.  Pickwick  to 
issue  forth  %n  his  delicate  errand.  Resisting  Sam's  tender  of  his  great 
coat,  in  order  that  he  might  have  no  incumbrance  in  scaling  the  wall, 
he  set  forth,  followed  by  his  attendant. 

There  was  a  bright  moon,  but  it  was  behind  the  clouds.  It  was  a 
fine  dry  night,  but  it  was  most  uncommonly  dark.  Paths,  hedges, 
fields,  houses,  and  trees,  were  enveloped  in  one  deep  shade.  The 
atmosphere  was  hot  and  sultry,  the  summer  lightning  quivered  fainilv 
on  the  verge  of  the  horizon,  and  was  the  only  sight  that  varied  the  dull 
gloom  in  which  every  thing  was  wrapped — sound  there  was  none 
except  the  distant  barking  of  some  restless  house-dog. 

They  found  the  house,  read  the  brass  plate,  walked  round  the  wall, 


164  POSTIIUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

and  stopped  at  that  portion  of  it  which  divided  them  from  the  bottom  of 
the  garden. 

"  You  will  return  to  the  inn,  Sam,  wlien  you  have  assisted  me  over," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Werry  well,  sir." 

*'  And  you  will  sit  up  till. I  return." 

••  Cerl'niy,  sir." 

"  Take  hold  of  my  leg  ;  and  when  I  say  '  Over,'  raise  me  gently." 

"All  right,  sir." 

Having  settled  these  preliminaries,  Mr.  Pickwick  grasped  r.he  top  of 
the  wall,  and  gave  the  word  '*  Over,"  which  was  very  literally  obeyed. 
Whether  his  body  partook  in  some  degree  of  the  elasticity  of  his  mind, 
or  whether  Mr.  Weller's  notions  of  a  gentle  push  were  of  a  somewhat 
rougher  description  than  Mr.  Pickwick's,  the  immediate  effect  of  his 
assistance  was  to  jerk  that  immortal  gentleman  completely  over  the 
wall  on  to  the  bed  beneath,  where,  after  crushing  three  gooseberry 
bushes  and  a  rose-tree,  he  finally  alighted  at  full  length. 

"  You  ha'n't  hurt  yourself,  I  hope,  sir,"  said  Sam,  in  a  loud  whisper, 
as  soon  as  he  recovered  from  the  surprise  consequent  upon  the 
mysterious  disappearance  of  his  master. 

"  I  have  not  hurt  myself,  Sam,  certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
from  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  "  but  I  lather  think  that  you  have 
hurt  we." 

*'  I  hope  not,  sir,"  said  Sam. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rising,  "it's  nothing  but  a  few 
scratches.     Go  away,  or  we  shall  be  overheard." 

"  Good-bye,  sir. 

«  Good-bye." 

With  stealthy  steps  Sam  Weller  departed,  leaving  Mr.  Pickwick 
alone  in  the  garden. 

Lights  occasionally  appeared  in  the  different  windows  of  the  house, 
or  glanced  from  the  staircases,  as  if  the  inmates  were  retiring  to  rest. 
Not  caring  to  go  too  near  the  door,  until  the  appointed  time,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick crouched  into  an  angle  of  the  wall,  and  awaited  its  arrival. 

It  was  a  situation  which  might  well  have  depressed  the  spirits  of 
many  a  man.  Mr.  Pickwick,  however,  felt  neither  depression  nor 
misgiving.  He  knew  that  his  purpose  was  in  the  main  a  good  one, 
and  he  placed  implicit  reliance  on  the  high-minded  Job.  It  was  dull, 
certainly  ;  n<3t  to  say,  dreary  ;  but  a  contemplative  man  can  always 
employ  himself  in  meditation.  Mr.  Pickwick  had  meditated  himself 
into  a  doze,  when  he  was  roused  by  the  chimes  of  the  neighbouring 
church  ringing  out  the  hour — half-past  eleven. 

"  That's  the  time,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  getting  cautiously  on 
his  feet.  He  looked  up  at  the  house.  The  lights  had  Asappeared, 
and  the  shutters  were  closed — all  in  bed  no  doubt.  He  walked  on  tip- 
toe to  the  door,  and  gave  a  gentle  tap.  Two  or  three  minutes  passing 
without  any  reply,  he  gave  another  tap  rather  louder,  and  then  another 
rather  louder  than  that. 

At  length  the  sound  of  feet  was  audible  upon  the  stairs,  and  then 
the  hght  of  a  candle  shone  through  the  key-hole  of  the  door.  There 
was  a  good  deal  of  unchaining  and  unbolting,  and  the  door  was  slowly 
opened. 

Now  the  door  opened  outwards  :  and  a^s  the  door  opened  wider  and 
wider,  Mr.  Pickwick  receded  behind  it  more  ^nd  more.     What  was 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  165 

his  astonishment  when  he  just  peeped  out,  by  way  of  caution,  to  see 
that  the  person  who  had  opened  it  was  not  Job  Trotter,  hut  a  servant- 
girl  with  a  candle  in  her  hand  I  Mr.  Pickwick  drew  in  his  he.ul  again, 
with  the  swiftness  displayed  by  that  admirable  meio-dramatic  per- 
former, Punch,  when  he  lies  in  wait  for  the  flat-headed  comedian  with 
the  tin  box  of  music. 

"  It  must  have  been  the  cat,  Sarah,"  said  the  girl,  addressing  her- 
self to  some  one  in  the  house.     "Puss,  pu.^s,  puss — tit,  tit,  tit." 

But  no  animal  being  decoyed  by  these  blandishments,  the  girl  slowly 
closed  the  door,  and  refastened  it ;  leaving  Mr.  Pickwick  drawn  up 
straight  against  the  wall. 

"  This  is  very  curious,"'  thought  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  They  are  sitting 
up  beyond  their  usual  hour,  I  suppose.  Extremely  unfortunate,  that 
they  should  have  chosen  this  night  of  all  others,  for  such  a  purpose — ' 
exceedingly."  And  with  these  thoughts,  Mr.  Pickwick  cautiously 
retired  to  the  angle  of^the  wall  in  which  he  bad  been  before  ent^conced, 
waiting  until  such  time  as  he  might  deem  it  safe  to  repeat  the  signal. 

He  had  not  been  here  five  minutes,  when  a  vivid  flash  of  li^ihtning 
was  followed  by  a  loud  peal  of  thunder  that  crashed  and  rolled  away 
in  the  distance  with  terrific  noise — then  nme  another  flash  of  light- 
ning, brighter  than  the  other,  and  a  second  peal  of  thunder  loudei  than 
the  first ;  and  then  down  came  the  rain  wuth  a  force  and  fury  that 
swept  every  thing  before  it. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  perfectly  aware  that  a  tree  is  a  very  dangerous 
neighbour  in  a  thunder-storm.  He  had  a  tree  on  his  right,  a  tree  on 
his  left,  a  third  before  him,  and  a  fourth  behind.  If  he  remained  where 
he  was,  he  might  fall  tTie  victim  of  an  accident ;  if  he  showed  himself 
in  the  centre  of  the  garden,  he  might  be  consigned  to  a  constable  ; — 
once  or  twice  he  tried  to  scale  the  wall,  but  having  no  other  legs  this 
time  than  those  with  which  nature  had  furnished  him,  the  ordy  ellect  c4 
his  struggles  was  to  inflict  a  varit;ty  of  very  unpleasant  gratings  on  his 
knees  and  shins,  and  to  throw  him  into  a  state  of  the  most  profuse 
perspiration. 

"  What  a  dreadful  situation,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  pausing  to  wipe 
his  brow  after  this  exercise.  He  looked  up  at  the  house — all  was 
dark.  They  must  be  gone  to  bed  now.  He  would  try  the  signal 
again. 

He  walked  on  tip-toe  across  the  moist  gravel,  and  tapped  at  the  door 
He  held  his  breath,  and  listened  at  the  kay-hole.  No  reply  ;  very  odd. 
Another  knock.  He  listened  again.  There  was  a  low  whispering 
inside,  and  then  a  voice  cried — 

'*  Who's  there  1" 

"  That's  not  Job,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily  drawing  himself 
straight  up  against  the  wall  again.     "  It's  a  woman." 

He  had  scarcely  had  time  to  form  this  conclusion,  wJien  a  window 
above  stairs  was  thrown  up,  and  three  or  four  female  voices  repealed 
the  query,  "  Who's  there  V 

Mr  Pickwick  dared  not  move  hand  or  foot.  It  was  clear  that  the 
whole  establishment  was  roused.  He  made  up  his  mind  to  remain 
where  he  was  until  the  alarm  had  subsided  :  and  then  to  make  a  su- 
pernatural t'fTort,  and  get  over  the  wall  or  perish  in  the  attempt 

Like  all  .Mr.  Pickwick's  determinations,  this  was  the  best  that  coulJ 
be  made  undf^r  the  circumstances  ;  but.  unfortunately,  it  w-is  founded 
upon  the  assumption  that  they  would  not  venture  to  open  the  door 


166  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

again.  What  was  his  discomfiture,  when  he  heard  the  chain  and  bolJs 
witlKlravv,  and  saw  the  door  slowly  opening  wider  and  wider  !  He  re- 
treated into  the  cornci-,  step  by  step  ;  but  do  what  he  would,  the  inter- 
positum  of  his  own  person,  prevented  its  being  opened  to  its  utmost 
width. 

"  Who's  there  ]*'  screamed  a  numerous  chorus  of  treble  voices  from 
the  stair-case  ingide,  consisting  of  the  spinster  lady  of  the  establish- 
ment, three  teachers,  five  female  servants,  and  thirty  boarders,'all  half 
dressed  and  in  a  forest  of  curl  pipers 

Of  course  Mr.  Pickwick  didn't  say  who  was  there  :  and  then  the 
burden  of  the  chorus  was  ehanired  into — "  Oh  !   I  am  so  friurhtened." 

"  Cook,"  said  the  lady  abbess,  who  took  care  to  be  on  the  top  stair, 
the  very  last  of  the  group — "  Cook,  why  don't  you  go  a  little  way  into 
the  a^arden  T' 

"  Please  ma'am,  I  don't  like,"  responded  the  cook. 

*'  What  a  stupid  thing  that  cook  is,"  said  the  thirty  boarders. 

"  Cook,"  said  the  lady  abbess,  with  great  digni-j,  "  don't  answer  mo 
if  you  please.   I  insist  upon  your  looking  into  the  garden  immediately." 

Here  the  cook  began  to  cry,  and  the  housemaid  said  it  was  a  shame, 
for  which  partisanship  she  received  a  month's  warning  on  the  spot. 

"  Do  you  hear,  cook  !"  said  the  lady  abbess,  stamping  her  foot  impa- 
tiently. 

"  Don't  you  hear  your  misses,  cook  1"  said  the  three  teachers. 

"  VVliai  an  impudent  thing  that  cook  is  !"  said  the  thirty  boarders. 

The  unfortunate  cook  thus  strongly  urged,  advanced  a  step  or  two, 
and  holding  her  candle  just  where  it  prevented  her  seeing  anything  at 
all,  declared  there  was  nothing  there,  and.it  must  have  been  the  wind; 
and  the  door  was  just  going  to  be  closed  in  consequence,  when  an  in- 
quisitive boarder,  who  had  been  peeping  between  the  hinges,  set  up  a 
fearful  ccreaming,  which  called  back  the  cook  and  the  housemaid,  and 
all  the  more  adventurous  in  no  time. 

"  What  ?s  tlie  matter  with  Miss  Smithers  ?'  said  the  lady  abbess,  as 
the  aforesaid   Miss  Smithers  proceeded  to  go  into  hysterics  of  four 
younar  lady  power. 
•   "  Oh,  Miss  Smithers  dear,"  said  the  other  nine-and-twenty  boarders. 

"  O,  the  man — the  man,  behind  the  door  I"  screamed  Miss  Smithers." 

The  lady  abbess  no  sooner  heard  this  appalling  cry,  than  she  retreat- 
ed to  her  own  bed-room,  double-locked  the  door,  and  fainted  away  all 
comforiaiily.  The  boarders,  and  the  teachers,'  and  the  servants,  fell 
back  upon  the  staiis,  and  upon  each  other;  and  never  was  such  a 
screaming  and  fainting  and  struggling  beheld.  In  the  midst  of  the 
tumult,  Mr.  Pickwick  emerged  from  his  concealment,  and  presented 
himself  amongst  them. 

"  I.adies — dear  ladies,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick." 

"  Oh,  he  savs  we're  dear,"  cried  the  oldest  and  ugliest  teacher. 
^  Oh  the  wretch." 

"  Ladies,"  roared  Mr.  Pickwick,  rendered  desperate  by  the  danger 
of  his  situation.  "  Hear  rae.  I  am  no  robber.  1  want  the  lady  of  the 
house." 

"Oh.  what  a  ferocious  monster  !"  screamed  another  teacher.  *'He 
wants  Miss  Tomkins." 

Here  there  was  a  ireneral  scream. 

**  Ring  the  alarm  bell,  somebody,"  cried  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Don't — don't,"  shouted  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  Look  at  me.     Do  I  look 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  167 

like  a  robber  1  My  uear  ladies — you  may  bind  me  hand  and  leg,  or 
lock  me  up  in  a  closet,  if  you  like.  Only  hear  what  I  have  got  to  say 
— only  hear  me." 

"How  did  you  come  in  our  garden  !"  faltered  the  house-maid. 

"Call  the  lady  of  the  house,  and  Til  tell  her  every  thina — every 
thing,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  e.Kcrting  his  lungs  to  the  utmost  pitch. 
"  Call  her — only  be  quiet,^nd  call  her.  and  you  shall  hear  every  thing." 

It  might  have  been  Mr.  Pickwick's  appearance,  or  it  might  have 
been  his  manner,  or  it  might  have  been  the  temptation — so  irresistible 
to  a  female  mind — of  hearing  something  at  present  enveloped  in 
mystery,  that  re(Kiced  the,raore  reasonable  portion  of  the  establi>hment 
(some  four  individuals)  to  a  state  of  comparative  quiet.  I^y  them  it 
was  proposed,  as  test  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  sincerity,  that  he  should  im- 
mediately submit  to  personal  restraint ;  and  that  gentleman  having 
consented  to  hold  a  conference  with  .Miss  Tomkins,  from  the  interior 
of  a  closet  in  which  the  day  boarders  hung  their  bonnets  and  sjndwich- 
bags,  he  at  once  stepped  into  it,  of  his  own  accord,  and  was  securely 
locked  in.  This  revived  the  others  ;  and  Miss  Tomkins  having  been 
brouiiht  to,  and  brought  down,  the  conference  began. 

"  What  did  you  do  in  my  garden,  man  ]"  said  Miss  Tomkins,  in  a 
faint  V  ice. 

"  I  came  to  warn  you,  that  one  of  your  young  ladies  was  going  to 
elope  to-night,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  from  the  interior  of  the  closet. 

"Elope!"  exclai.med  .Miss  Tomkins,  the  three  teachers,  the  thirty 
boarders,  and  the  five  servants.     "  Who  with  I"" 

*'  Your  friend,  .Mr  Charles  Fitzmarshall.'* 

"  My  friend  I     T  don't  know  any  such  person." 

"Well:  Mr.  Jingle,  then." 

"  I  never  heard  the  name  in  my  life  " 

"  Then  I  have  been  deceived  and  deluded,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  '*  I 
have  been  the  victim  of  a  conspiracy — afoul  and  base  conspiracy. 
iSend  to  the  Angel,  my  dear  ma'am,  if  you  don't  believe  me  Send  to 
the  Anoel  for  Mr.  Pickwick's  man-servant,  I  implore  you,  ma'am." 

"  He  must  be  respectable — he  keeps  a  man-servant,"  said  Mis.s 
Tomkins  to  the  writing  and  ciphering  governess. 

"  It's  my  opinion,  Miss  Tomkins,"  said  the  writin?  and  ciphering 
governess,  "  that  his  man-servant  ke?p3  him.  I  think  he's  a  madman. 
Miss  Tomkins,  and  the  other's  his  keeper." 

"I  think  you  are  very  right.  Miss  Gwynn,"  responded  Miss  Tom- 
kins. "  Let  two  of  ihe  servants  repair  to  the  Angel,  and  let  the  others 
remain  here  to  protect  us." 

So  two  of  the  servants  were  despatched  to  the  Angel  in  search  of 
Mr.  Samuel  Weller  :  and  the  remaining  three  stopped  behind  to  pro- 
tect Mi^s  Tomkins,  and  the  three  teachers,  and  the  thirty  boarders. 
And  Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  in  the  closet,  beneath  a  grove  of  sand 
■wich  bags,  and  awaited  the  return  of  the  messengers,  with  all  the 
philosophy  and  fortitude  he  could  summon  to  his  aid. 

An  hour  and  a  half  elapsed  before  they  came  back,  and  when  they  did 
come,  Mr.  Pickwick  recognised,  in  addition  to  the  voice  of  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller,  two  other  voices,  the  tones  of  which  struck  familiarly  on  his 
ear  :  but  whose  they  were,  he  could  not  for  the  life  of  him  call  to  mind. 

A  very  brief  conversation  ensued.  The  docv  was  unlocked.  Mr. 
Pickwick  stepped  out  of  the  closet,  and  found  himself  in  the  presence 


I6S  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

of  the  whole  establishment  of  Westgate  House,  Mr.  Samuel  Weller, 
and — old  Wardle,  and  his  destined  son-in-law.  Mr.  Trundle  ! 

''  My  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  running  forward  and  grasping 
Wardle's  hand,  "  my  <lear  friend,  pray,  for  heaven's  sake  explain  to 
this  lady  the  unfortunate  and  dreadful  situation  in  which  I  am  placed. 
You  must  have  heard  it  from  my  servant ;  say,  at  all  events,  my  dear 
fellow,  that  I  am  neither  a  robber  nor  a  madhian  " 

"  I  have  said  so,  my  dear  friend.  I  have  said  so  already,"  xeplied 
Mr.  Wardle,  shaking  the  right  hand  of  his  friend,  while  Mr.  Trundle 
shook  the  left. 

''And  whoever  says,  or  has  said,  he  is,"  interposed  Mr.  "Weller, 
stepping  forward,  "  says  that  which  is  not  the  truth,  but  so  far  from  it 
on  the  contrairy,  quite  the  rewersc.  And  if  there's  any  number  o' 
men  on  these  here  premises  as  has  said  so,  I  shall  be  werry  happy  to 
give  'em  all  a  v-.erry  conwincing  proof  o'  their  being  mistaken,  in  this 
here  werry  room,  if  these  werry  respectable  ladies  '11  have  the  goodness 
to  retire,  and  order  'era  up,  one  at  a  time."  Having  delivered  this  de- 
fiance with  great  volubility,  Mr.  Weller  struck  his  open  palm  empha- 
tically with  his  cleTiched  fist,  and  winked  pleasantly  on  Miss  Tomkins, 
the  intensity  of  whose  horror  at  his  supposing  it  within  the  bounds  of 
possibility  that  there  could  be  any  men  on  the  premises  of  Westgate 
House  Establishment  for  Young  Ladies,  it  is  impossible  to  describe. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  explanation  having  been  already  partially  made,  was 
soon  concluded.  But  neither  in  the  course  of  his  walk  home  with  his 
friends,  nor  afterward  when  seated  before  a  blazing  fire  at  the  supper 
he  so  much  needed,  could  a  single  observation  be  drawn  from  him. — 
He  .seemed  bewildered  and  amazed.  Once,  and  only  once,  he  turned 
round  to  Mr.  Wardle  and  said, 

"  How  did  you  come  herel" 

"  Trundle  and  I  came  down  here  for  some  good  .shooting  on  the 
first,"  replied  Wardle.  "  We  arrived  to-night,  and  were  astonished  to 
hear  from  your  servant  that  you  were  here  too.  But  I  am  glad  you 
are,"  said  the  jolly  old  fellow,  slapping  him  on  the  back.  "  I  am  glad 
you  are.  We  shall  have  a  jolly  party  on  the  first,  and  we'll  give  Winkle 
another  chance — eh,  old  boy  !" 

Mr.  Pickviick  made  no  reply  ;  he  did  not  even  ask  after  his  friends 
at  Dingley  Dell,  and  shortly  afterward  retired  for  the  night,  desiring 
Sam  to  fetch  his  candle  when  he  rung. 

The  bell  did  ring  in  due  course,  and  Mr.  Weller  presented  himself 

'♦  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  out  from  under  the  bed-clothes. 

"  Sir,"  said. Mr.  Weller. 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  and  Mr.  Weller  snuflfed  the  candle. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  again,  as  if  with  a  desperate  effort. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  once  more.  « 

"  Where  is  that  Trotter  ?" 

"  Job,  sir  r' 

"Yes." 

*'  Gone,  sir." 

•'  With  his  master,  I  suppose  V 

"  Friend  or  master,  whatever  he  is,  he's  gone  with  him,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller.     "  There's  a  pair  on  'em,  sir." 

*'  Jingle  suspected  my  design,  and  set  that  fellow  on  you,  with  this 
story,  I  suppose  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  half  choking. 

"  Just  that,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  169 

*'  It  was  all  false,  of  ciurse  !" 

**  All,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.     *'  Reg'Iar  do,  sir  ;  artful  dodge." 

*'  I  don't  think  he'll  escape  us  quite  so  easily  the  next  time,  Sam!" 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

♦*  I  don't  think  he  will,  sir." 

'*  Whenever  I  meet  that  Jingle  again,  wherever  it  is,  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, rai^ng  himself  in  bed,  and  indenting  his  pillow  with  a  tremendous 
Wow,  ♦*  I'll  infiict  personal  chastisement  on  him,  in  addition  to  the 
exposure  he  so  richly  merits.     I  will,  or  my  name  is  not  Pickwick." 

"  And  venever  I  catches  hold  o'  that  there  melancholly  chap  with 
the  black  hair,"  said  Sam,  "  if  I  don't  bring  some  real  water  into  his 
eyes,  for  once  in  a  way,  my  name  a'n't  Weller.     Good  night,  sir." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

SHOrwlNG    THAT    AN    ATTACK  OF   RHEUMATISM,  IX    SOME    CASES,  ACTS  AS  A 
QXJICKENER  TO  INVENTIVE  GENIUS. 

The  constitution  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  though  able  to  sustain  a  very  con- 
siderable amougt  of  exertion  and  fatigue,  was  not  proof  against  such  a 
combination  of  attacks  as  he  had  undergone  on  the  memorable  nijjht 
recorded  in  the  last  chapter.  The  process  of  being  washed  in  the 
night  air,  and  rough-dried  in  a  close  closet,  is  as  dangerous  as  it  is 
peculiar.     Mr.  Pickwick  was  laid  up  with  an  attack  of  rheumatism. 

But  although  the  bodily  powers  of  the  great  man  were  thus  impaired, 
his  mental  energies  retained  their  pristine  vigour.  His  spirits  were 
elastic  ;  his  good  humour  was  restored.  Even  the  vexation  consequent 
upon  his  recent  adventure  had  vanished  from  his  mind  ;  and  he  could 
join  in  the  hearty  laughter  which  any  allusion  to  it  excited  in  Mr. 
Wardle,  without  anger  and  without  embarrassment.  During  tho 
two  days  Mr.  Pick*.vick  was  confined  to  his  bed,  Sam  was  his  constant 
attendant.  On  the  first,  he  endeavoured  to  amuse  his  master  by- 
anecdote  and  conversation  ;  on  the  second  Mr.  Pickwick  demanded 
bis  writing-desk,  and  pen  and  ink,  and  was  deeply  engaged  during 
the  whole  day.  On  the  third,  being  able  to  sit  up  in  his  bed- 
chamber, he  despatched  his  valet  with  a  message  to  Mr.  Wardle  and 
Mr.  Trundle,  intimating  that  if  they  would  take  their  wine  there,  that 
evening,  they  would  greatly  oblige  him.  The  invitation  was  most 
willingly  accepted  ;  and  when  they  were  seated  over  their  wine,  Mr. 
Pickwick  with  sundry  blushes,  produced  the  following  little  tale,  as 
having  been  "  edited"  by  himself,  during  his  recent  indisposition,  from 
his  notes  of  Mr.  Weller's  unsophisticated  recital. 

"  THE  PARISH  clerk — A  TALE  OF  TRUE  LOVE. 

**  Once  upon  a  time,  in  a  very  small  country  town,  at  aconsidcrnblc  dis- 
tance from  London,  there  lived  a  little  man  named  Nathaniel  Pipkin,  who 
was  the  parish  clerk  of  the  little  town,  and  lived  in  a  little  house  in  the 
little  high  street,  within  ten  minutes'  walk  of  the  little  church  ;  and  who 
was  to  be  founAeverv  day  from  nine  till  four,  teaching  a  little  learning- 

Vol.  I.— 15 


170  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

to  the  lifilc  boys.  Nathaniel  Pipkin  was  a  harmless,  inoffensive,  gooS- 
nalured  being,  with  a  turned-up  nose,  and  rather  turr)ed-in  leg»,  a  cast 
in  his  eye,  and  a  halt  in  his  gait ;  and  he  divided  his  time  between  the 
church  and  his  school,  verily  believing  that  there  existed  not  on  the  face 
of  the  earth,  so  clever  a  man  as  the  curate,  so  imposing  an  apartment 
as  the  vestry-room,  or  so  well  ordered  a  seminary  as  his  own.  Once, 
apd  only  once  in  his  life,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  had  seen  a  bishop — a  real 
bishop,  with  his  arms  in  lawn  sleeves,  and  his  head  in  a  wig.  He  had 
seen  him  walk,  and  heard  him  talk  at  a  confirmation,  on  which  moment- 
ous occasion  Nathaniel  Pipkm  was  so  overcome  with  reverence  and 
awe,  when  the  aforesaid  bishop  laid  his  hand  on  his  head,  that  he 
fainted  right  clean  away,  and  was  borne  out  of  church  in  the  arms  of 
the  beadle. 

"  This  was  a  great  event,  a. tremendous  era,  in  Nathaniel  Pipkin's 
life,  and  it  was  about  the  only  one  that  had  ever  occurred  to  ruffle  the 
smooth  current  of  his  quiet  existence,  when  happening  one  fme  after- 
noon, in  a  lit  of  mental  abstraction,  to  raise  his  eyes  from  the  slate  on 
which  he  was  devising  some  tremendous  problem  in  compound  addi- 
tion for  an  offending  urchin  to  solve,  they  suddenly  rested  on  the 
blooming  countenance  of  Maria  Lobbs,  the  only  daughter  of  old  Lobbs 
the  great  i^addler  over  the  way.  Now  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Pipkin  had 
rested  on  the  pretty  face  of  Maria  Lobbs  many  a  time  and  oft  before,  at 
church  and  elsewhere  :  but  the  eyes  of  Maria  Lobbs  h^d  never  looked 
60  bright,  the  cheeks  of  Maria  l^obbs  had  never  looked  so  niddy,  as 
upon  this  particular  occasion.  No  wonder  then  that  NSthaniel  Pipkin 
was  unable  to  take  his  eyes  froii  the  countenance  of  Miss  Lobbs ;  no 
wonder  that  Miss  Lobbs.  finding  herself  stared  at  by  a  young  man, 
withdrew  her  head  from  the  window,  out  of  which  she  had  been  peep- 
ing, and  shut  the  casement  and  pulled  down  the  blind  ;  no  wonder 
that  Nathaniel  Pipkin,  immediately  thereafter,  fell  upon  the  young 
urchin  who  had  previously  offended,  and  cuffed  and  knocked  him  to 
his  heart's  content.  All  this  was  yery  natural,  and  there's  nothing  at 
all  to  wonder  at  about  it.  ^ 

"  It  is  matter  of  wonder,  though,  that  any  one  of  Mr.  Nathaniel 
Pipkin's  retiring  disposition,  nervous  temperament,  and  most  particu- 
larly diminutive  income,  should  from  this  day  forth,  have  dared  to 
aspire  to  the  hand  and  heart  of  the  only  daughter  of  the  fiery  old  Lobbs 
— of  old  Lobbs  the- great  saddler,. who  could  have  Iwught  up  the  whole  . 
village  at  one  stroke  of  his  pen,  and  never  felt  the  outlay — old  Lobbs, 
■who  was  well  known  to  have  heaps  of  money  in'-^sted  in  the  bank  at 
the  nearest  market  town — who  was  reported  to  have  countless  and  in- 
exhaustible treasures,  hoarded  up  in  the  little  iron  safe  with  the  bi^' 
keyhole,  over  the  chimney-piece  in  the  back  parlour — and  who,  it  was 
well  known,  on  festive  occasions  garnished  his  board  with  a  real  silver 
teapot,  cream-cv7er,  and  sugar-basin,  which  he  was  wont,  in  the  pride 
of  his  heart,  to  boast  should  be  his  daughter's  property  when  she  found 
a  man  to  her  mind.  I  repeat  it,  to  be  a  matter  of  profound  astonish- 
ment and  intense  wooder,  that  Nathaniel  Pipkin  should  have  had  the 
temerity  to  cast  his  eyes  in  this  direction.  But  love  is  blind,  and 
Nathaniel  had  a  cast  in  his  eye  ;  and  perhaps  these  two  circumstances, 
taken  together,  prevented  his  seeing  the  matter  in  its  proper  light. 

"  Now,  if  old  Lobbs  had  entertained  the  most  remote  or  distant  idea 
of  the  state  of  the  affections  of  Nathaniel  Pipkin,  he  would  just  have 
razed  the  school-room  to  the  ground,  or  exterminated  ^ts  master  from 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  I7l 

the  surface  of  the  earth,  or  committed  some  other  outrage  and  atrocity 
of  an  equally  ferocious  and  violent  description;  for  he  was  a  Jerrihlc 
old  fellow  that  Lobbs,  when  his  pride  was  injured,  or  his  blood  was  up. 
Swear  !  Such  trains  of  oaths  would  come  rolling  and  pealing  over 
the  way,  sometimes  when  he  was  denouncing  the  idleness  of  the  bony 
apprentice  with  the  thin  legs,  that  Nathaniel  Pipkin  would  shake  in 
his  shoes  with  horror,  and  the  hair  of  the  pupils'  heads  would  stand  on 
end  with  fright. 

"  Well,  day  after  day,  when  school  was  over,  and  the  pupils  gone, 
did  Nathaniel  Pipkin  sit  himself  down  at  the  front  window,  and  while, 
he  feigned  to  be  reading  a  book,  throw  sidelong  glances  over  the  way 
in  search  of  the  bright  eyes  of  Maria  Lobbs  ;  and  he  hadn't  sat  there 
many  days,  before  the  bright  eyes  appeared  at  an  upper  window,  ap- 
parently deeply  engeiged  in  reading  too.  This  was  delightful,  and 
gladdening  to  the  heart  of  Nathaniel  Pipkin.  It  was  something  to  sit 
there  for  hours  together  and  look  upon  that  pretty  face  when  the  eyes 
were  cast  down  ;  but  when  Maria  Lobbs  began  to  raise  her  eyes  from 
her  book,  and  dart  their  rays  in  the  direction  of  Nathaniel  Pipkin,  his 
delight  and  admiration  were  perfectly  boundless.  At  last,  one  day 
when  he  knew  old  Lobbs  was  out,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  had  the  temerity 
to  kiss  his  hand  to  Maria  Lobbs  ;  and  Maria  Lobbs,  instead  of  shutting 
the  window,  and  pulling  down  the  blind,  kissed  hers  to  him,  and  smiled. 
Upon  which  Nathaniel  Pipkin  determined  that  come  what  might  he 
would  develope  the  state  of  his  feelings,  without  farther  delay. 

'•  A  prettier  foot,  a  gayer  heart,  a  more  dimpled  face,  or  a  smarter 
form,  never  bounded  so  lightly  over  the  earth  they  graced,  as  did  those 
of  Maria  Lobbs,  the  old  saddler's  dauiihter.  There  was  a  roguish 
twinkle  in  her  sparkling  eyes,  that  would  have  made  its  way  to  far  less 
susceptible  bosoms  than  that  of  Nathaniel  Pipkin  ;  and  there  was  such 
a  joyous  sound  in  her  merry  laugh,  that  the  sternest  misanthrope  must 
have  smiled  to  hear  it.  Even  old  Lobbs  himself  in  the  very  height  of  his 
ferocity,  couldn't  resist  the  coaxing  of  hi>  pretty  daughter  ;  and  when 
she,  and  her  cousin  Kate — an  arch,  impudent-looking,  bewitching  little 
person — made  a  dead  set  upon  the  old  man  together,  as,  to  say  the 
truth,  they  very  often  did,  he  could  have  refused  them  nothing,  even 
had  they  asked  for  a  portion  of  the  countless  and  inexhaustible  treasures, 
which  were  hidden  from  the  light,  in  the  iron  safe. 

"  Nathaniel  Pipkin's  heart  beat  high  within  him,  when  he  saw  this 
enticing  little  couple  some  hundred  yards  before  him,  one  summcT's 
evening,  in  the  very  field  in  which  he  had  many  a  time  strolled  about 
till  nin[ht-time,  and  pondered  on  the  beauty  of  Maria  Lobbs.  But  (hi)ngh 
he  had  often  thought  then-how  hri-skly  he  would  walk  up  to  Maria 
Lobbs  and  tell  her  of  his  passion  ;f  he  could  only  meet  her,  he  felt,  now 
that  she  was  unexpectedly  .before  him,  all  the  blood  in  his  body  mount- 
ing to  his  face,  manifestly  to  the  great  detriment  of  his  legs,  which, 
deprived  of  their  usual  portion,  trembled  beneath  him.  When  they 
stopped  to  gather  a  hedge  flower,  or  listen  to  a  bird,  Nathaniel  Pipkin 
stopped  too,  and  pretended  to  be  absorbed  in  meditation,  as  indeed  he 
really  was  ;  for  he  was  thinking  what  on  earth  he  should  ever  do, 
when  they  turned  back,  as  they  inevitably  must  in  time,  and  men  him 
face  to  face.  But  though  he  was  afraid  to  make  up  to  them,  he  couldn't 
bear  to  lose  sight  of  them  ;  so  when  they  walked  faster  he  walked 
faster,  when  they  lingered  he  lingered,  and  when  they  stopped  he 
stopped  ;  and  so  they  might  have  gone  on,  till  the  darkness  i)reventcd 


173  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

them,  if  Kate  had  not  looked  slyly  back,  and  encouragingly  beckoned 
Nathaniel  to  advance.  There  was  something  in  Kate's  manner  that 
was  not  to  be  resisted,  and  so  Nathaniel  Pipkin  complied  with  the 
invitation  :  ami  after  a  great  deal  of  bhisliing  on  his  part,  and  in»- 
woderate  laughter  on  that  of  the  wicked  little  cousin,  Natlianiel  Pipkia 
■went  down  on  his  knees  on  the  dewy  grass  and  declared  his  res4»lulioa 
to  remain  there  for  ever,  unless  he  was  permitted  to  rise  the  accepted 
lover  of  Maria  Lobbs.  Upon  this,  the  merry  laughter  of  Maria  Lobbs 
rang  throuirh  the  calm  evening  air — without  seeming  to  disturb  it, 
thouijh  ;  it  had  such  a  pleasant  sound — and  the  wicked'  little  cousiu 
laughed  more  immoderately  than  before,  and  Nathanisl  Pipkin  blushed 
deeper  than  e*er.  At  length,  Maria  Lobbs  being  more  strenuously 
urged  by  tlie  love- worn  little  man,  turned  away  her  head,  and  whispered 
her  cousin  to  say,,  or  at  all  events  Kate  did  say,  that  she  felt  much 
honoured  by  Mr.  Pipkin's  addresses,  that  her  hand  and  heart  were  at 
her  fatlier's  disposal,  but  that  nobody  could  be  insensible  to  Mr  Pip- 
kin's merits.  As  all  this  was  said  with  much  gravity,  and  as  Nathaniel 
Pipkin  walked  home  with  Maria  Lobbs,  and  strui>gled  for  a  kiss  at 
parting,  he  went  to  bed  a  ha])py  man,  and  dreamed  all  night  long,  of 
softening  old.  Lobbs,  openinor  the  strong  box.  and  marrying  Maria. 

"  The  next  day,  Nathajiiel  Pipkin  saw  old  Lobbs  go  out  upon  his 
old  gray  pony,  and  after  a  great  many  signs  at  the  window  from  the 
wicked  little  cousin,  the  object  and  meaning  of  which  he  could  by  no 
means  understand,  the  bony  apprentice  with  the  thin  legs  came  over  to 
say  that  his  master  was'nt  coming  home  all  night,  and  that  the  ladies 
expected  Mr.  Pipkin  to  tea  at  six  o'clock  precisely.  How  the  lessons 
were  got  through  that  day,  neither  Nathaniel  Pipkin  nor  his  pupils 
knew,  any  more  than  you  do  ;  but  they  were  go:  through  somehow, 
and,  after  the  boys  had  gone,  Nathaniel  Pipkin  took  till  full  six  o'clock 
to  dress  himself  to  his  satisfaction  ;  not  that  it  took  long  to  select  the 
garments  he  should  wear,  inasmuch  as  he  had  no  choice  about  the  mat- 
ter, but  the  putting  them  on  to  the  best  advaniage,  and  touching  them 
up  previously,  was  a  task  of  no  inconsiderable  difficully  or  importance. 

'*  There  w:as  a  very  snug  little  party,  consisting  of  Maria  Lobbs  and 
her  cousin  Kate,  and  three  or  four  romping,  good-humoured,  rosy- 
cheeked  girls.  Nathaniel  Pipkin  had  ocular  demonstration  of  the 
fact,  that  even  the  rumours  of  old  Lobbs's  treasures  were  not  exajroe- 
rated.  There  were  the  real  solid  silver  teapot,  cream-ewer  and  sugar 
basin  on  the  table,  and  real  silver  spoons  to  stir  the  tea  with,  and  real 
china  cups  to  drink,  it  out  of,  and  plates  of  the  same  to  hold  the  cakes 
and  toast  in.  The  only  eyesore  in  the  whole  place  was  another  cousia 
of  M  ;ria  Lobbs's,  and  brother  of  Kate,  wiiom  Maria  Lobbs  called 
'Henry,'  and  who  seemed  to  keep  Maria  Lobbs  all  to  hinjself,  up  in  one 
corner  of  the  table.  It's  a  deUghtful  thing  to  see  affection  in  families, 
but  it  may  be  carried  rather  too  far,  and  Nathaniel  Pipkin  could  nqt  help 
thinking  that  Maria  Lobbs  must  be  very  p8.rticularly  fond  of  her  rela- 
tions, if  she  paid  aslnuch  attention  to  all  of  them  as  to  this  individual 
cousin.  After  tea,  too^  when  the  wicked  little  cousin  proposed  a  gam.e 
at  blind  man's  buff,  it  soaneho-w  or  other  happened  that  Nathaniel  Pip- 
kin was  nearly  always  bUnd,  and  whenever  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
jnale  cousin,  he  was  sure  to  find  that  Maria  Lobbs  was  not  far  off. — 
And  though  the  wicked  little  cousin  and  the  other  girls  pitched  him, 
and  pulled  his  hair,  and  pushed  chairs  in  his  way,  and  all  sorts  of 
things,  Maria  Lobbs  never  seemed  to  come  near  him  at  all ;  and  once — 


THE  PtCKWlCK  CLCB.  173 

once — Nathaniel  Pipkin  could  have  sworn  he  heard  the  sound  of  a  kiss, 
followed  by  a  faint  remonstrance  from  Maria  Lobhs,  and  a  half-sup- 
pressed laugh  from  her  fem.ile  friends.  All  this  was  odd — very  odd — 
and  there  is  no  saying  what  Nathaniel  Pipkin  might  or  might  not  have 
done,  in  consequence,  if  his  thought*  had  not  been  suddenly  directed 
into  a  new  channel. 

"  The  circumstance  which  directed  his  thoughts  into  a  new  channel 
was  a  loud  knocking  at  the  street  door,  and  the  person  who  made  this 
loud  knocking  at  the  street  door  was  no  other  than  old  Ix»bbs  himself, 
who  had  unexpectedly  returned,  and  was  hammering  away  like  a  cof- 
fin maker  :  for  he  wanted  his  supper.  The  alarming  intelligence  wa« 
no  sooner  communicated  by  the  bony  apprentice  with  the  thin  legs, 
than  the  girls  tripped  up  stairs  to  Maria  Lobbs's  bed-room,  and  the 
male  cousin  and  Nathaniel  Pipkin  were  thrust  into  a  couple  of  closets 
in  the  sitting  room,  for  want  of  any  better  places  of  concealment ;  and 
when  Maria  Lobbs  and  the  wicked  little  cousi;i  had  stowed  them  away 
and  put  the  room  to  rights,  they  opened  the  street  door  to  old  Lobbs, 
who  had  never  left  off  knocking  since  he  first  began. 

"  Now  it  did  unfortunately  happen  that  old  Lobbs  being  verj'  hungry 
•was  monstrous  cross.  Nathaniel  Pipkin  could  hear  him  growling  away 
like  an  old  mastiff  with  a  sore  throat ;  and  whenever  the  unfortunate 
apprentice  with  the  thin  legs  came  into  the  room,  so  surely  did  old 
Lobbs  commence  swearing  at  him  in  a  most  Saracenic  and  ferocious 
manner,  though  apparently  with  no  other  end  or  object  than  that  of 
easing  his  bosom  b}'  the  discharge  of  a  few  suj^erfluous  oaths.  At 
length  some  supper,  which  had  been  warming  up,  was  placed  on  the 
table,  and  then  old  Lobbs  fell  to,  in  regular  style  ;  and  having  made 
clear  work  of  it  in  no  time,  kissed  his  daughter  and  demanded  his  pipe. 

*'  Nature  had  placed  Nathaniel  Pipkin's  knees  in  ver\-  close  juxta 
position,  but  when  he  heard  old  Lobbs  demand  his  pipe,  they  knocked 
together  as  if  they  were  going  to  reduce  each  other  to  powder  ;  for 
depending  from  a  couple  of  hooks,  in  the  ven.-  closet  in  which  he  stood 
■was  a  large  brown-stemmed,  silver-bowled  pipe,  which  pipe  he  himself 
had  seen  in  the  mouth  of  old  Lobbs  regularly  every  afternoon  and 
evening  for  the  last  five  years.  The  two  girls  went  down  stairs  for 
the  pipe,  and  up  stairs  for  the  pipe,  and  every  where  but  where  they 
knew  the  pipe  was,  and  old  Lobbs  stormed  away  mean  while  in  the 
most  wonderful  manner.  At  last  he  thought  of  the  closet  and  walked 
up  to  it.  It  was  of  no  use  a  little  man  like  Nathaniel  Pipkin  pulling 
the  door  inwards,  when  a  great  strong  fellow  like  old  Lobbs  was  pull- 
ing it  outwards.  Old  Lol)bs  just  gave  it  one  tug  and  open  it  flew,  dis- 
closing Nathaniel  Pipkin  standing  bolt  upright  inside,  and  shaking 
with  ap|)rchension  from  ^ead  to  foot.  Bless  us  I  what  an  appalling 
look  old  Lobbs  gave  him,  as  he  dragged  him  out  by  the  collar,  and  held 
hixn  at  arm's  length. 

"  '  Why,  r.'hat  do  you  want  here  V  said  old  Lobbs,  in  a  fearful  voice. 

"Nathaniel  Pipkin  could  make  no  reply,  so  old  Lobbs  shook  him 
Tiackwards  and  forwards  for  two  or  three  minutes,  by  way  of  arranging 
his  id'^as  for  him. 

'• '  What  do  you  want  here  V  roared  Lobbs,- '  I  suppose  yoit  have 
come  after  my  daughter  now.' 

"  Old  Lobbs  merely  said  this  as  a  sneer  ;  for  he  did  not  believe  that 
mortal  presumption  could  have  carried  Nathaniel  Pipkin  so  far. 
What  was  his  indignation  when  th-it  poor  man  replied — 

15» 


174  poaTHUMocs  papers  or 

"  •  Yes,  I  did,  Mr.  Lobbs — I  did  come  after  your  daughter.  I  love 
her,  Mr.  Lobbs.' 

•' '  Why,  you  snivelling,  wry-faced  little  villain,'  gasped  old  Lobbs, 
paralysed  at  the  atrocious  confession  ;  *  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ] 
Say  this  to  my  face  !      Why,  I'll  throttle  you.' 

"  It  is  by  no  means  improbable  that  old  Lobbs  would  have  canied 
liis  threat  into  execution,  in  the  excess  of  his  rage,  if  his  arm  had  not 
been  stayed  by  a  very  unexpected  apparition,  to  wit,  the  male  cousin, 
who  stepping  out  of  his  closet,  and  walking  up  to  old  Lobbs,  said — 

"  '  I  cannot  allow  this  harmless  person,  sir,  who  has  been  asked  here, 
in  some  girlish  frolic,  to  take  upon  himself,  in  a  very  noble  manner, 
the  fault  (if  fault  it  is)  which  I  am  guilty  of,  and  am  ready  to  avow.  / 
love  your  daughter,  sir ;  and  /came  here  for  the  purpose  of  meeting  her.' 

"  Old  Lobbs  opened  his  eyes  very  wide  at  this,  but  not  wider  than 
J^athaniel  Pipkin. 

♦' '  You  did  !'  said  Lobbs,  at  last  finding  breath  to  speak. 

" '  I  did.' 

"  *  And  I  forbade  you  this  house,  long  agO:' 

" '  You  did,  or  I  should  not  have  been  here,  clandestinely,  to-night.' 

'♦  I  am  sorry  to  record  it  of  old  Lobbs,  but  I  think  he  would  have 
struck  the  cousin,  if  his  pretty  daughter,  with  her  bright  eyes  swim- 
ming in  tears,  had  not  clung  to  his  arm. 

"  '  Don't  stop  him,  Maria,'  said  the  young  man  :  *  if  he  has- the  will 
to  strike  me,  let  him.  I  would  not  hurt  a  hair  of  his  gray  head  for 
the  riches  of  the  wgrld.' 

"  The  old  man  cast  down  his  eyes  at  this  reproof,  and  they  met 
those  of  his  daughter.  I  have  hinted,  once  or  twice  before  that  they 
were  very  bright  eyes,  and  though  they  were  tearful  now,  their  in- 
fluence was  by  no  means  lessened.  Old  Lobbs  turned  his  head  away, 
as  if  to  avoid  being  persuaded  by  them,  when,  as  fortune  would  have 
it,  he  encountered  the  face  of  the  wicked  little  cousin,  who,  half  afraid 
for  her  brother,  and  half  laughing  at  Nathaniel  Pipkin,  presented  as 
bewitching  an  expression  of  countenance,  with  a  touch  of  slyness  in  it 
too,  as  any  man,  old  or  young,  need  look  upon.  She  drew  her  arm 
coaxingly  through  the  old  man'&  and  whispered  something  in  his  ear; 
and  do  what  he  would,  old  Lobbs  couldn't  help  breaking  out  into  a 
smile,  while  a  tear  stole  down  his  cheek  at  the  same  time. 

"  Five  minutes  after  this  the  girls  were  brought  down  from  the  bed- 
room with  a  great  deal  of  giggling  and  modesty  ;  and  while  the  young 
people  were  making  themselves  perfectly  happy,  old  Lobbs  got  down 
the  pipe,  and  smoked  it ;  and  it  was  a  remarkable  circumstance  about 
that  particular  pipe  of  tobacco,  that  it  was  the  most  soothing  and  de- 
lightful one  he  ever  smoked.  ^ 

"  Nathaniel  Pipkin  thought  it  best  to  keep  his  own  counsel,  and  by 
so  doing  gradually  rose  in  high  favour  with  old  Lobbs,  who  taught  him 
to  smoke  in  time  ;  and  they  used  to  sit  out  in  the  garden  on  the  fine 
evenings  for  many  years  afterward,  smoking  and  drinking  in  great 
state.  He  soon  recovered  from  the  eflects  of  his  attachment,  for  we  find 
his  name  in  the  parish  register,  as  a  witness  to  the  marriage  of  Maria 
Lobbs  to  her  cousin  ;  and  it  also  appears,  by  reference  to  other  docu- 
ments, that  on  the  night  of  the  wedding,  he  was  incarcerated  in  the 
village  cage,  for  having  in  a  state  of  extreme  intoxication,  committed 
sundry  excesses  in  the  streets,  in  all  of  which  he  was  aided  and  abetted 
by  the  bony  apprentice  with  the  thin  legs." 


THE    PICKWICK    CLDB.  175 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

BRIEFLY    ILLUSTRATIVE    OF    TWO    POINTS  ; — PIEST,    THE    POWER    OF    HYS- 
TEEICS,  ASDy  SECONDLY,  THE  FORCE  OF  CIRCUMSTANCES. 

For  two  days  after  the  dejcune  at  Mrs.  Hunters,  the  Pickwickians 
remained  at  Eatanswill,  anxiously  awaiting  the  arrival  of  some  intelli- 
gence from  their  revered  leader.  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snod^rass 
were  once  again  left  to  their  own  means  of  amusement ;  for  Mr.  Winkle, 
in  compliance  with  a  most  pressing  invitation,  continued  to  reside  at 
Mr.  Pott's  house,  and  devote  his  time  to  the  companionship  of  his 
amiable  lady.  Nor  was  the  occasional  society  of  Mr.  Pott  himself, 
wanting  to  complete  theic  felicity.  Deeply  immersed  in  the  intensity 
of  his  speculations  for  the  pubHc  weal,  and  the  destruction  of  the 
Independent,  it  was  not  the  habit  of  that  great  man  to  descend  from 
Lis  mental  pinnacle  to  the  humble  level  of  ordinary  minds.  On  this 
occasion,  however,  and  as  if  expressly  in  compliment  to  any  follower 
of  Mr.  Pickwick's,  he  unbent,  relaxed,  stepped  down  from  his  pedestal, 
and  walked  upon  the  ground  :  benignly  adapting  his  remarks  to  the 
comprehension  of  the  herd,  and  seeming  in  outward  form,  if  not  in 
spirit,  to  be  one  of  them. 

Such  having  been  the  demeanour  of  this  celebrated  public  cheraeter 
towards  Mr.  Winkle,  it  will  be  readily  imagined  that  considerable  sur- 
prise was  depicted  on  the  countenance  of  the  latter  gentleman,  when, 
as  he  was  sitting  alone  in  the  breakfast-room,  the  door  was  hastily- 
thrown  open,  and  as  hastily  closed,  on  the  entrance  of  .Mr.  Pott,  who, 
stalking  maiestically  towards  him,  and  thrusting  aiside  his  protTered 
hand,  ground  his  teeth,  as  if  to  put  a  sharper  edge  on  what  he  was 
about  to  utter,  and  exclaimed,  in  a  saw-like  voice, — 

"  Serpent  1" 

"  Sir  I''  exclaimed  Mr.  Winkle,  starting  from  his  chair 

"  Serpent,  sir,"  repeated  Mr.  Pott,  raising  his  voice,  and  then-  sud- 
denly depressing  it  ;  "I  said.  Serpent,  sir — make  the  most  of  it." 

Now  when  you  have  parted  with  a  man,  at  tvva  o'clock  m  the  morn- 
ing, on  tcFms  of  the  utmost  good  fellowship,  and  he  meets  you  again 
at  half-past  nine,  and  greets  you  as  a  serpent,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to 
conclude  that  soH>ething  of  an  unpleasant  nature  has  occurred  mean 
while.  So  Mr.  Winkle  thought.  He  returned  Mr.  Pott's  gaze  of 
stone,  and  in  compliance  with  that  gentleman's  request,  proceeded  to 
make  the  most  he  could  of  the  ''serpent."  The  most,  however,  was 
just  nothing  at  all ;  so,  after  a  profound  silence  of  some  minutes'  dura- 
tion, he  said, — 

"Serpent,  sir  I  Serpent,  Mr.  Pott!  What  can  you  mean,  sir? — 
this  is  pleasantry." 

«'  Pleasantry,  sir  I"  exclaimed  Pott,  witk  a  motion  of  the  hand,  in- 
dicative of  a  strong  desire  to  hurl  the  Britannia-nu'fdl  teajii't  at  the 
head  of  his  visiter.     "  Pleasantry,  sir  I but  no*  I  will  be  calm  ;  I 


17B  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

will  be  calm,  hit  ;''  and  in  proof  of  his  calmness,  Mr.  Pott  flung  himself 
into  a  chair,  and  foamed  at  the  mouth. 

"  My  dear,  sir,"  interposed  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Dear  sir  !"  repUed  Pott.  "  How  dare  you  address  me,  as  dear  sir, 
sir  1     How  dare  you  look  me  in  the  face  and  do  it  1" 

"Well,  sir,  if  you  come  to  that,"  responded  Mr.  Winkle,  *'how  dare 
you  look  mc  in  the  face,  and  call  me  a  serpent,  sir?" 

"  Eecause  you  are  one,"  replied  Mr.  Pott. 

"  Prove  it,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  warmly.     "  Prove  it." 

A  malignant  scowl  passed  over  the  profound  face  of  the  editor,  as  he 
idrew  from  his  pocket  the  Independent  of  that  morning  ;  and  laying  his 
linger  on  a  particular  paragraph,  threw  the  journal  across  the  table  to 
Mr.  Winkle. 

That  gentleman  took  it  up,  and  read  as  follows  : — 

"  Our  obscure  and  filthy  contemporary,  in  some  disgusting  observa- 
tions on  the  recent  election  for  this  borough,  has  presumed  to  violate 
the  hallowed  sanctity  of  private  life,  and  to  refer,  in  a  manner  not  to 
be  misunderstood,  to  the  personal  affairs  of  our  late  candidate — ay,  and 
notwithstanding  his  base  defeat,  we  will  add,  our  future  member  Mr. 
Fizkin.  What  joes  our  dastardly  contemporary  mean  1  What  would 
the  ruffian  say,  if  we,  setting  at  nought,  like  him,  the  decencies  of  social 
intercourse,  were  to  raise  the  curtain  which  happily  conceals  his  private 
life  from  general  ridicule,  not  to  say  from  general  execration  !  What, 
if  we  were  even  to  point  out,  and  gomment  on,  facts  and  circumstances 
which  are  publicly  notorious,  and  beheld  by  every  one,  but  our  mole- 
eyed  contemporary — what  if  we  were  to  print  the  following  eflusion, 
•which  we  received  while  we  were  writing  the  commencement  of  this 
article,  from  a  talented  fellow-townsman  and  correspondent : — 

'"LINES  TO  A  BRASS  POT. 

"  '  Oh  Pott !  if  you'd  knowTi 

How  false  she'd  have  grovni, 
When  you  heard  the  marriage  bell's  tinkle  ; 

You'd  have  done  then,  I  vow, 

What  you  cannot  help  now. 
And  handed  her  over  to  W* ****.'  " 

"  W^hat,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  solemnly — "  What  rhymes  to  *  tinkle,' 
villain  1" 

"  What  rhymes  to  tinkle?'  said  Mrs.  Pott,  whose  entrance  at  the 
moment  forestalled  the  reply.  "  What  rhymes  to  tinkle  ]  Why, 
W  inkle,  I  should  conceive  :"  and  saying  this,  Mrs.  Pott  smiled  sweetly 
on  the  disturbed  Pickwickian,  and  extended  her  hand'  towards  him. 
The  agitated  young  man  would  have  accepted  it,  in  his  confusion,  had 
not  Pott  indignantly  interposed. 

"  Back,  ma'am — back,"  said  the  editor.  '*■  Take  his  hand  before  my 
very  face !" 

*'  Mr.  P. !"  said  his  astonished  lady. 

"Wretched  woman,  look  here,"  exclaimed  the  husband.  "Look 
here,  ma'am — 'Lines  to  a  brass  Pot,'  ma'am.  'Brass  pot;' — that's 
me,  ma'am.  'False  she'd  have  grown;' — that's  you,  ma'am — you." 
Wit'n  th'/;  ebullition  of  rage,  which  was  not  unaccompanied  with  some- 
thing like  a  tremble,  at  the  expression  of  his  wife's  face,  Mr.  Pott 
dashed  the  current  number  of  the  Eatanswill  Independent  at  her  feet. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  177 

*'Upon  my  word,  sir,"  said  the  astonished  Mrs.  Pott,  stooping  to  pick 
up  the  paper.     "Upon  my  word,  sir." 

Mr.  Pott  winced  beneath  the  contemptuous  gaze  of  his  wife  He 
had  made  a  desperate  struggle  to  screw  up  his  courage,  but  it  was  fast 
coming  unscrewed  again. 

There  appears  nothing  very  tremendous  in  this  little  sentence, 
"  Upon  my  word,  sir,"  when  it  comes  to  be  read  ;  but  the  tone  of  voice 
in  which  it  was  delivered,  and  the  look  that  accompanied  it,  both  seem- 
ing to  bear  reference  to  some  revenge  to  be  thereafter  wreaked  upon 
the  head  of  Pott,  produced  their  full  eflect  upon  him.  The  most  un- 
skilful observer  could  have  detected  in  his  troubled  countenance,  a 
readiness  to  resign  his  Wellington  boots  to  any  etiicient  substitute  who 
would  have  consented  to  stand  m  them  at  that  moment. 

Mrs.  Pott  read  the  paragraph,  uttered  a  loud  shriek,  and  threw  her- 
self at  full  length  on  the  hearth-rug,  screaming,  and  tapping  it  with 
the  heels  of  her  shoes,  in  a  maP'ier  wliich  could  leave  no  doubt  of  the 
propriety  of  her  feelings  on  the  occasion. 

'•  My  dear,"  said  the  territied  Pott, — '•  I  didn't  say  I  believed  it ; — • 
I — "  but  the  unfortunate  man's  voice  was  drowned  in  the  screaming 
of  his  partner. 

"  Mrs.  Pott,  let  me  entreat  you,  my  dear  ma'am,  to  compose  your- 
self,' said  Mr.  Winkle  ;  but  the  shrieks  and  tappings  were  louder  and 
more  frequent  than  ever. 

'•  My  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  "  I  am  very  sorry.  If  you  won't  con- 
sider your  own  health,  consider  me,  my  dear.  We^shall  have  a  crowd 
round  the  house." 

But  the  more  strenuously  Mr.  Pott  entreated,  the  more  vehemently 
the  screams  poured  forth. 

Very  fortunately,  however,  attached  to  Mrs.  Pott's  person  was  a 

body-guard  of  one :  a  young  l^ady  whose  ostensible  emplovment 

was  to  preside  over  her  toilet,  but  who  rendered  herself  uselul  in  a 
variety  of  ways,  and  in  none  more  so  than  in  the  particular  depart,- 
ment  of  constantly  aiding  and  abetting  her  mistress  in  every  wish  and 
inclination  opposed  to  the  desires  of  the  unhappy  Pott.  The  screams 
reached  this  young  lady's  ears  in  due  course,  and  brought  her  to  the 
room  with  a  speed  which  threatened  to  derange  materially  the  very 
exquisite  arrangement  of  her  cap  and  ringlets. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  dear  mistress  !"  exclaimed  the  body-guard,  kneeling 
frantically  by  the  side  of  the  prostrate  Mrs.  Pott.  "  Oh,  my  dear 
mistress,  what  is  the  matter  !" 

"  Your  master — your  brutal  master,"  murmured  the  patient. 

Pott  was  evidently  giving  way. 

*'  It's  a  shame,"  said  the  body-guard,  reproachfully.  '*  I  know  he'll 
be  the  death  on  you,  ma'am.     Poor  dear  thing." 

He  gave  way  more.     The  opposite  party  followed  up  the  attack. 

'•  Oh,  don't  leave  me — don't  leave,  GotKlwin,"  murmured  Mrs.  Pott, 
clutching  at  the   wrists  of  the  said   Goodwin  with  an  hysteric  jerk. 

"  You're  the  only  person  that's  kind  to  me,  Goodwin." 

At  this  affecting  appeal,  Goodwin  got  up  a  little  domestic  tragedy 
of  her  own,  and  shed  tears  copiou.sly. 

"  Never,  ma'am — never,''  said  Goodwin.  "  Oh,  sir,  you  should  bo 
careful — you  should  indeed  ;  yuu  don't  know  what  harm  you  may  do 
Missis  ;  you'll  be  sorry  for  it  one  day,  I  know — I've  always  said  bo.'' 

The  unlucky  Pott  looked  timidly  on,  but  said  nothing. 


178  P0STHDM0U8  PAPERS  OF 

"  Goodwin,"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  in  a  soft  voice. 

"  Ma'am,''   said  Goodwin. 

"Il'vou  only  knew  how  I  have  loved  that  man — " 

"  Don't  distress  yourself  by  recollecting  it,  ma'am,"  said  the  body- 
guard. 

Pott  looked  very  frightened.     It  was  time  for  a  clencher. 

*'  And  now,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Pott — "  n«  w,  after  all,  to  be  treated  in 
this  way  ;  to  be  reproached  and  insulted  in  the  presence  of  a  third 
party,  and  that  party  almost  a  stranger.  But  I  will  not  submit  to  it, 
Goodwin,"  continued  Mrs.  Pott,  raising  herself  in  the  arms  of  her 
attendant.  "  My  brother,  the  lieutenant,  shall  interfere.  PU  b^ 
separated,  Goodwin." 

"  It  would  certainly  serve  him  right,  ma'am,"  said  Goodwin. 

Whatever  thoughts  the  threat  of  a  separation  might  have  awakened 
in  Mr.  Pott's  mind,  he  forbore  to  give  utterance  to  them,  and  contented 
himself  by  saying  with  great  humility — 

"  My  dear,  will  you  hear  me  1" 

A  fresh  train  of  sobs  was  the  only  reply,  as  Mrs.  Pott  grew  more 
hysterical,  requested  to  be  informed  why  she  was  ever  born,  and  re- 
quired sundry  other  pieces  of  information  of  a  similar  description 

" My  dear,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Pott,  "don't  give  way  to  these  sensitive 
feelings.  I  never  believed  that  the  paragraph  had  any  foundation,  my 
dear — impossible.  I  was  only  angry,  my  dear — I  may  say  outrageous 
— with  the  Independent  people,  for  daring  to  insert  it  ;  that's  all,;"  and 
Mr.  Pott  cast  an  imploring  look  at  the  innocent  cause  of  the  mischief, 
as  if  to  entreat  him  to  say  nothing  about  the  serpent. 

"  And  what  steps,  sir,  do  mean  to  take  to'  obtain  redress  ?"  inquired 
Mr.  Winkle,  gaining  courage  as  he  satv  Pott  losing  it. 

*' Oh,  Goodwin,"  observed  Mrs.  Pott,  ''does  he  mean  to  horsewhip 
the  editor  of  the  Independent — does  he,  Goodwin  ?" 

'*  Hush,  hush,  ma'am  ;  pray  keep  yourself  quiet,"  replied  the  body- 
guard.    "  I  dare  say  he  will,  if  you  wish  it,  ma'am." 

''  Certainly,"  said  Pott,  as  his  wife  evinced  decided  symptoms  of 
going  off  again — "  of  course  I  shall." 

"  When,  Goodwin— when  I"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  still  undecided  about 
the  EToing  off. 

"Immediately,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Pott;  "  before  the  day  is  out." 

"  Oh.  Goodwin,"  resumed  Mrs.  Pott,  *'  it's  the  only  way  of  meeting 
the  slanderer,  and  setting  me  right  with  the  world." 

"  Certainly,  ma'am,"  seplied  Goodwin.  "  No  man  as  is  a  man, 
ma'am,  could  refuse  to  do  it." 

So  as  the  hysterics  were  still  hovering  about,  Mr.  Pott  said  once 
more  that  he  would  do  it ;  but  Mrs.  Pott  was  so  overcome  at  the  bare 
idea  of  having  ever  been  suspected,  that  she  was  half-a-dozen  times 
on  the  very  verge  of  a  relapse,  and  most  unquestionably  would  have 
gone  off,  had  it  not  been  for  ihe  indefatigable  efforts  of  the  assiduous 
Goodwin,  and  repeated  entreaties  for  pardon  from  the  conquered  Pott ; 
and  finally,  when  that  unhappy  individual  had  been  frightened  and 
snubbed  down  to  his  proper  level,  Mrs.  Pott  recovered,  and  they  went 
to  breakfast. 

"You  will  not  allow  this  base  newspaper  slander  to  shorten  your 
slay  here,  Mr.  Winkle  1"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  smiling  through  the  traces  of 
her  tears. 

♦•  I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Pott,  actuated  as  he  spoke  by  an  internal 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  179 

^ish  that  his  visitor  would  choke  himself  with  the  morsel  of  dry  toast 
which  he  was  raising  to  his  lips  at  the  moment ;  and  so  terminate  his 
stay  effectually. 

'•  I  hope  not." 

"  You  are  very  qood,"  said  Mr.  Winkle  ;  "  but  a  letter  has  been  re- 
ceived from  Mr.  Pickwick— so  I  learn  by  a  note  from  Mr.  Tupman, 
which  was  hrought  up  to  my  bed-room  door  this  morning,  in  which  he 
requests  us  to  join  him  at  Bury  to-day  ;  and  we  are  to  leave  by  tlie 
cooch  at  noon." 

"  But  you  will  come  back,"  said  Mrs.  Pott. 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle. 

"  You  are  quite  sure  1"  said  Mrs.  Pott,  stealing  a  tender  look  at  her 
visiter. 

"Quite,"  responded  .Mr.  Winkle. 

The  breakfast  passed  off  in  silence,  for  each  member  of  the  party 
was  brooding  over  his  or  her  own  personal  grievances.  Mrs.  Pott  was 
regretting  the  loss  of  a  beau  ;  Mr.  Pott  his  rash  pledge  to  h.-rsewhip 
the  Independent;  and  Mr.  Winkle  his  having  placed  himself  in  so 
awkward  a  situation.  Noon  approached,  and  after  many  adieus  and 
promises  to  return,  he  tore  himself  away. 

"If  he  ever  comes  hack,  I'll  poison  him,"  thought  Mr.  Pott,  as  he 
turned  into  the  little  back  office  where  he  prepared  his  thunderbolts. 

"  If  I  ever  do  come  back  and  mix  myself  up  with  th^se  people 
again,"  thought  Mr.  Winkle,  as  he  wended  hi.s  way  to  the  Peacock,  "  I 
shall  deserve  to  be  horsewhipped  myself — that's  al!." 

His  friends  were  ready,  the  coach  was  nearly  so,  and  in  half  an 
hour  they  were  proceeding  on  their  journey,  along  the  road  over  which 
Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  had  so  recently  travelled,  and  of  v.hic'a,  as  we 
have  already  said  something,  we  do  not  feel  called  upon  to  extract  Mr, 
Snodgrass's  poetical  and  beautiful  description. 

Mr'.  Weller  was  standing  at  the  door  of  the  Angel,  ready  to  receive 
them,  and  by  that  gentleman  they  were  ushered  to  the  apartment  of 
Mr.  Pickwick,  where,  to  the  no  small  surprise  of  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr. 
Snodgrass,  and  the  no  small  embarrassment  of  Mr.  Tupman,  they 
found  old  Wardle  and  Trundle. 

"  How  are  you  ?"  said  the  old  man,  grasping  Mr.  Tupman's  hand. 
"  Don't  hang  back  or  look  sentimental  about  it — it  can't  be  helped,  old 
fellow.  For  her  sake,  I  wish  you'd  had  her ;  for  your  own,  I'm  very 
glad  you  have  not.  A  young  fellow  like  you  will  do  better  one  of  these 
days — eh  ?"'  With  this  consolation  old  Wardle  slapped  Mr.  Tuprnun 
on  the  back  and  laughed  heartily. 

"  Well,  and  how  are  you,  my  fine  fellows  ?"  said  the  old  gentleman, 
shaking  hands  with  Mr.  Winkle  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  at  the  same  time. 
"  I  have  just  been  telling  Pickwick  that  we  must  have  yoyi  all  down  at 
Christmas.  We're  going  to  have  a  wedding — a  real  wedding  this 
time." 

"  A  wedding  !'*  exclaimed  Mr.  Snodgrass,  turning  very  pale. 

"  Yes,  a  weddinjj.  But  don't  be  frightened,"  said  the good-humourel 
old  man  ;  "  it's  only  Trundle  there  and  Bella." 

*'  Oh,  is  that  all !"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  relieved  from  a  painful  doubt 
which  had  fallen  heavily  on  his  breast.  "  Give  you  jov,  sir.  How  is 
Joe  V 

♦'  Oh,  he— very  well,"  replied  the  old  gentleman.  "  Sleepy  as  ever." 

"  And  your  mother,  and  the  clergyman,  and  all  of  'em  ]" 


IBO  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

♦'  Quke  well." 

"  W  here,"  said  Mr.  Tupman,  with  an  effort — "  wliere  is — she,  sirV 
and  he  turned  away  his  head,  and  covered  his  eves  with  his  hand. 

"  She  /"  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  knowing  shake  of  the  head 
"  Do  jou  mean  ray  single  relative — eh  1" 

Mr.  Tupman,  by  a  nod,  intimated  that  his  question  applied  to  the 
disappointed  Rachael. 

*'  Oh,  she's  gone  away,"  said  the  old  gentleman.  "  She'«  living  at 
a  relation's  far  enough  off.  She  couldn't  bear  to  sec  the  girls,  so  f  let 
her  go.  But  come,  here's  the  dinner.  You  must  be  hungry  after  your 
ride.     I  am,  without  any  ride  at  all ;  so  let  us  fall  to." 

Ample  justice  was  done  to  the  meal ;  and  v/hen  they  were  seated 
round  the  table  after  it  had  been  disposed  of,  Mr  Pickwick,  to  the  in- 
tense horror  and  indignation  of  his  followers,  related  the  adventure  he 
bad  undergone,  and  the  success  which  had  attended  the  base  artifices 
of  the  diabolical  Jingle. 

"An(^,thc  attack  of  rheumatism  which  I  caught  in  that  garden," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  conclusion,  "renders  me  lame  at  this  moment." 

"  I,  too,  have  had  something  of  an  adventure,"  said  Mr.  Winkle, 
with  a  smile  ;  and,  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  he  detailed  the 
malicious  libel  of  the  Eatanswill  Independent,  and  the  consequent 
excitement  of  their  friend,  the  editor. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  brqw  darkened  during  the  recital.  His  friends  ob- 
served it,  and,  when  Mr.  Winkle  had  concluded,  maintained  a  profound 
silence.  Mr.  Pickwick  struck  the  tabic  emphatically  with  his  clenched 
list,  and  spoke  as  follows  ; 

'  "  Is  it  not  a  wonderful  circumstance,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  that  we 
Ecem  destined  to  enter  no  man's  house  without  involving  him  in  some 
degree  of  trouble  ]  Does  it  not,  I  ask,  bespeak  the  indiscretion,  or, 
worse  than  that,  the  blackness  of  heart — that  I  should  say  so  I — of  my 
followers,  that,  beneath  whatever  roof  they  locate,  they  disturb  the 
peace  of  mind  and  happiness  of  some  confiding  female  ]  Is  it  not,  I 
say ]" 

Mr.  Pickwick  would  in  all  probability  have  gone  on  for  some  time, 
had  not  the  entrance  of  Sam,  with  a  letter,  caused  him  to  break  off  in 
his  eloquent  discourse.  He  passed  his  handkerchief  across  his  fore- 
head, took  off  his  spectacles,  wiped  them,  and  put  them  on  again  ;  and 
his  voice  had  recovered  its  wonted  softness  of  tone,  when  he  said, — 

"  W^hat  have  you  there,  Sam  V 

"  Called  at  the  post-otfice  just  now,  and  found  this  here  letter  as  has 
laid  there  for  two  days,"  replied  Mr.  W'eller.  *'  It's  sealed  vith  a 
vafer,  and  directed  in  round  hand." 

"  I  don't  know  this  hand,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  opening  the  letter. 
"  Mercy  on  us  !  what's  this  I  It  must  be  a  jest ;  it — it — can't  be 
true." 

"  What's  the  matter  1"  was  the  general  inquiry. 

"  Nobody  dead,  is  there  1"  said  Ward-le,  alarmed  at  the  horror  in 
Mr.  Pickwick's  counten^-^nce. 

Mr.  Pickwick  made  no  re])ly,  but  pushing  the  letter  across  the  table, 
and  desiring  Mr.  Tupman  to  read  it  aloud,  fell  back  in  his  chair  with  a 
look  of  vacant  astonishment  quite  alan^jing  to  behold. 

Mr.  Tupman,  with  a  trembling  voice,  read  the  letter,  of.  which  the 
following  IS  a  copy  : — 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  181 

Freeman's  Court,'  ComkUl,  August  28th,  1830. 
Bardell  against  Pttkwick. 
Sir, 

Having  been  instructed  ly  Mrs.  Martha  Bardell,  to  commence  ati 
action  against  yoiu,  for  a  breach  of  promise  of  marriage,  for  which  the 
plaintiff  lays  her  damages  at  fifteen  hundred  pounds,  we  beg  to  infcnu 
you  that  a  wnt  has  been  issued  against  you,  in  this  suit,  iJi  the  Court  of 
Common  Picas ;  and  request  to  know,  by  return  of  post,  the  name  of 
your  attorney  in  London  who  will  accept  service  thereof. 

We  are,  sir, 

Your  obedient  servants^ 
Dodson  and  Fogg. 
Mr.  Samuel  Pickwick. 

There  was  something  so  impressive  in  the  mute  astonishment  with 
which  each  man  regarded  his  neighbour,  and  every  man  regarded  Mr. 
Pickwick,  that  all  seemed  afraid  to  speak.  The  silence  was  at  length 
broken  by  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Dodson  and  Fogg,"  he  repeated  mechanically. 

"  Bardell  and  Pickwick,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  musing. 

"Peace  of  mind  and  happiness  of  confiding  females,''  murmured  Mr. 
Winkle,  with  an  air  of  abstraction. 

"  It's  a  conspiracy,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  at  length  recovering  the 
power  of  speech ; — "  a  base  conspiracy  between  these  two  grasping 
attorneys,  Dodson  and  Fogg.  Mrs.  Bardell  would  never  do  it ; — she 
hasn'f  the  heart  to  do  it ; — she  hasn't  the  case  to  do  it.  Ridiculous — 
ridiculous." 

"  Of  her  heart,"  said  Wardle,  with  a  smile,  "you  should  certainly  be 
the  best  judge.  I  don't  wish  to  discourage  you,  but  I  should  certainly 
say  of  her  case,  Dodson  and  Fogg  are  far  better  judges  than  any  of  us 
can  be."  v 

"  It's  a  vile  attempt  to  extort  money,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  hope  it  is,"  said  Wardle  with  a  short  dr\'  cough. 
-  **  Who  ever  heard  me  address  her  in  any  way  but  that  in  which  a 
lodger  would  address  his  landlady  !*'  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  with 
great  vehemence.     "  Who  ever   saw  me  with   her  ]     Not  even  my 
friends  here — " 

"  Except  on  one  occasion,"  said  Mr.  Tupiiian. 

Mr.  Pickwick  changed  colour. 

♦'  Ah,"  said  Wardle.  "  VV^cll,  that's  important.  There  was  nothing 
suspicious  then,  I  suppose  1'' 

Mr.  Tupman  glanced  tir/.idly  at  his  leader.  "  Why,"  he  said,  «'  there 
was  nothing  suspicious  ;  but — I  don't  know  how  it  happened,  mind — 
she  certainly  was  reclining  in  his  arras." 

"Gracious  powers  I"  ejaculated  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the  recollection 
of  the  scene  in  question  struck  forcibly  upon  him  ; — '«  what  a  dreadful 
instance  of  the  force  of  circumstances  !     So  she  was — so  she  was." 

"And  our  friend  was  soothing  her  anguish,"  said  Mr.  Winkle, 
rather  maliciously. 

"  So  I  was,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  "  I  won't  deny  it."    So  I  was." 

"Hallo!"  said  Wardle:  "  for  a  case  in  which  there's  nothing  su»- 

VoL.  I— IG 


182  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

picious,  this  looks  ratlier  queer — eh,  Pickwick — eh  1  Ah,  sly  dbg — «Iy 
do^ !"  and  he  laughed  till  the  glasses  on  the  sideboard  rang  again. 

•'  What  a  dreadful  conjunction  of  appearances  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, resting  his  chin  upon  his  hands.  "Winkle — Tupman — I  beg 
your  pardon  for  the  observations  I  made  just  now.  Wor  are  all  the 
victims  of  circumstances,  and  I  the  greatest."  With  this  apology,  Mr. 
Pickwick  buried  his  head  in  his  hands,  and  ruminated  ;  while  Wardle 
measured  out  a  regular  circle  of  nods  and  winks,  addressed  to  the  other 
members  of  the  company. 

"  I'll  have  it  explained  though,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  raising  his  head, 
and  hammering  the  table.  "  I'll  see  this  Dodson  and  Fogg.  FU  go 
to  lymdon  to-morrow." 

♦'  Not  to-morrow,"  said  Wardle  ;  "  you're  too  lame." 

•' WrII  then,  ne.xt  day." 

'•  Next  day  is  the  first  of  September,  and  you're  pledged  to  ride  out 
■with  us,  as  far  as  Sir  Geoffrey  Manning's  grounds,  at  all  events  to 
meet  us  at  lunch,  if  you  don't  take  the  field." 

••  Well  then,  the  day  after,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  *'  Thursday.— Sam." 

"  Sir,"  replied  Mr."Weller. 

**Take  two  places  outside  to  London,  on  Thursday  morning,  for 
yourself  and  me." 

"  Werry  well,  sir." 

Mr.  Weller  left  the  room,  and  departed  slowly  on  his  errand,  with  his 
hands  in  his  pocket,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 

"  Rum  feller,  the  hemperor,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  as  he  walked  slowly 
up  the  street.  "  Think  o'  his  makin'  up  to  that  ere  Mrs.  Bardell — vith 
a  little  boy,  too  !  Always  the  vay  vith  these  here  old  'uns  hows'ever, 
as  is  such  steady  goers  to  look  at.  I  didn't  think  he'd  ha'  done  it, 
though — I  didn't  think  he'd  ha'  done  it."  After  moralizing  in  this 
strain,  Mr.  Samuel  Weller  bent  his  steps  towards  the  booking-office. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  PLEASANT  DAY,  WITH  AN  UXPLEASANT  TERMINATION. 

The  birds,  who,  happily  for  their  own  peace  of  mind,  and  personal 
comfort,  were  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  preparations  which  had  been 
making  to  astonish  them,  on  the  first  of  September,  hailed  it,  no  doubt, 
as  one  of  the  pleasantest  mornings  they  had  seen  that  season.  Many 
a  young  partridge  who  strutted  complacently  among  the  stubble,  with 
all  the  finicking  coxcombry  of  youth,  and  many  an  older  one  who 
watched  his  levity  out  of  his  little  round  eye,  with  the  contemptuous 
air  of  a  bird  of  wisdom  and  experience,  alike  unconscious  of  their  ap- 
proaching doom,  basked  in  the  fresh  morning  air  with  lively  and  blithe- 
some feelings,  and  a  few  hours  afterward  were  laid  low  upon  the  earth. 
But  we  grow  affecting :  let  us  proceed. 

In  plain  common-place  matter  of  fact,  then,  it  was  a  fine  morning — 
80  fine  that  you  would  scarcely  have  believed  that  the  few  months  of 
an  EngHsh  summer  had  yet  flown  by.  Hedges,  fields,  and  trees,  hill 
and  moorland,  presented  to  the  eye  their  ever-varying  shades  of  deep 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  183 

rich  green  :  scarce  a  leaf  had  fallen,  scarce  a  sprinkle  of  yellow  mingled 
with  the  hues  of  summer  warned  you  that  autumn  had  bei/un.  The 
sk\  was  cloudless  ;  the  sun  shone  out  bright  and  warm  ;  the  sonijs  of 
birds,  and  hum  of  myriads  of  summer  insects,  hlled  the  air;  and  the 
cottage  gardens,  crowded  with  flowers  of  every  rich  and  beautiful  tint, 
sparkled  in  the  heavy  dew,  like  beds  of  glittering  jewels,  Every  thing 
bore  the  stamp  of  summer,  and  none  of  its  beautiful  colours  had  yet 
faded  from  the  dye. 

Such  was  the  morning,  when  an  open  carriage,  in  which  were  three 
Pickwickians,  (Mr.  Snodgrass  having  preferred  to  remain  at  home,) 
Mr.  Wardle  and  Mr.  Trundle,  with  Sam  Weller  on  the  box  beside  the 
driver,  pulled  up  by  a  gate  at  the  road-side,  before  which  stood  a  tall, 
raw-boned  gamekeeper,  and  a  half-booted,  leather-leggined  boy  :  each 
bearing  a  bag  of  capacious  dimensions,  and  accompanied  by  a  brace  of 
pointers. 

"  I  say,"  whispered  Mr.  Winkle  to  Wardle,  as  the  man  let  down 
the  steps,  "  they  don't  suppose  we're  going  to  kill  game  enough  to  fill 
those  bags,  do  they  !" 

"  Fill  them  I"  exclaimed  old  Wardle.  "  Bless  you,  yes  !  You  shall 
fill  one  and  I  the  other ;  and  when  we've  done  with  them,  the  pockets 
of  our  shooting-jackets  will  hold  as  much  more." 

Mr.  Winkle  dismounted  without  saying  any  thing  in  reply  to  this 
observation  ;  but  he  thought  within  himself,  that  if  the  party  remained 
in  the  open  air  till  he  had  filled  one  of  the  bags,  they  stood  a  considera- 
ble chance  of  catching  tolerable  colds  in  the  head. 

"  Hi,  Juno,  lass — hi,  old  girl  ;  down,  Daph,  down,"  said  Wardle, 
caressing  the  dogs.    "  Sir  Geoffrey  still  in  Scotland,  of  course,  Martin  1" 

The  tall  gamekeeper  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  looked  with  some 
surprise  from  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  holding  his  gun  as  if  he  wished 
his  coat  pocket  to  save  him  the  trouble  of  pulling  the  trigger,  to  Mr. 
Tupman,  who  was  holding  his  as  if  he  were  afraid  of  it — as  there  is  no 
earthly  reason  to  doubt  that  he  really  was. 

"  My  friends  are  not  much  in  the  way  of  this  sort  of  thing  yet, 
Martin,"  said  Wardle,  noticing  the  look.  "  Live  and  learn,  you  know. 
They'll  be  gO(id  shots  one  of  these  days.  I  beg  my  friend  Winkle's 
pardon,  though ;   he  has  had  some  practice." 

Mr.  Winkle  smiled  feebly  over  his  blue  neckerchief  in  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  compliment,  and  got  himself  so  mysteriously  entangled 
with  his  gun  in  his  modest  confusion,  that  if  the  piece  had  been  loaded, 
he  must  inevitably  have  shot  himself  dead  U{)on  the  spot. 

"  Vou  mustn't  handle  your  piece  in  that  ere  way  when  you  come  to 
have  the  charge  in  it,  sir,"  said  the  tall  gamekeeper  gruffly,  "  or  you'll 
make  cold  meat  of  some  on  us." 

Mr.  Winkle,  thus  admonished,  abruptly  altered  its  position,  and  in 
60  doing,  contrived  to  bring  the  barrel  into  pretty  smart  contact  with 
Mr.  Weller's  head, 

"Hallo  I"  said  Sam,  picking  up  hia  hat,  which  had  been  knocked 
off,  and  rubbing  his  temple.  "  Hallo,  sir  !  if  you  c<»mes  it  this  vay, 
you'll  fill  one  o'  them  bags,  and  something  to  spare,  at  one  fire." 

Here  the  leather-leggined  boy  laughed  very  heartily,  and  then  tried 
to  look  as  if  it  was  somebody  else,  whereat  Mr.  Winkle  frowned 
majestically. 

"  Where  did  you  tell  the  boy  to  roett  us  with  the  snack,  ,>fartin  !" 
inquired  Wardle. 


184  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS  O? 

♦'  Side  of  One-tree  Hill,  at  twelve  o'clock,  sir." 

"  That's  not  Sir  GeoHVey's  land,  is  it?" 

"No,  sir;  but  it's  close  by  it.  It's  Captcdri  BoJdwiff'a  laild,;  but 
there'll  be  nol>ody  to  interrupt  us,  and  there's  a  fine  bit  of  turf  there.'' 

"  Very  well,"  said  old  Wardle.  "  Now  the  sooner  we're  off  the 
better.     Will  you  join  us  at  twelve,  then,  Pickwick?" 

iAr  Pickwick  was  particularly  desirous  to  view  the  sport,  and  more 
especially  as  he  was  rather  anxious  in  respect  of  Mr.  Winkle's  life  and 
limbs.  On  so  inviiinw  a  morning,  too,  it  was  very  tantalizing  to  turn 
back,  and  leave  his  friends  to  enjoy  themselves.  It  wa*,  therefore, 
with  a  very  rueful  air  that  he  replied, — 

'•  Why,  I  suppose  I  must." 

"  An't  the  jjentleman  a  shot,  sir  ?"  inquired  the  long  gainpkeep>er. 

"  No,"  replied  Wardle  ;  "  and  he's  lame  besides." 

"  I  should  very  much  like  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick — "  very  much." 

There  was  a  short  pause  of  commiseration. 

"There's  a  barrow  t'other  side  the  hedge,"  said  the  boy.  If  the 
gentleman's  servant  would  wheel  along  the  paths,  he  could  keep  nigh 
tis,  and  we  could  lift  ifover  the  stiles  and  that." 

"The  werry  tliijig,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  who  was  a  party  interested, 
inasmuch  as  he  ardently  lonoed  to  see  the  sport.  "  The  werry  thing. 
Well  said.  Small-cheek  ;  I'll  have  it  out  in  a  minute." 

But  here  a  difficulty  arose.  The  loujr  gamekeeper  resolutely  pro- 
tested against  the  introduction  into  a  shooting-party  of  a  gentleman  in 
a  barrow,  as  a  gross  violation  of  all  established  rules  and  precedents. 

It  was  a  great  objection,  but  not  an  insurmountable  one.  The  game- 
keeper having  been  coaxed  and  feed,  and  having,  moreover,  eased  his 
mind  by  "punching"  the  head  of  the  inventive  youth  who  had  first  sug- 
gested the  use  of  the  machine,  Mr.  Pickwick  was  placed  in  it,  and  off 
the  party  set ;  Wardle  and  the  long-  gamekeeper  leading  the  way, 
and  Mr.  Pickwick  in  the  barrow,  propelled  by  Sam,  bringing  up  the  rear. 

"  Stop,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  when  they  had  got  half  across  the 
first  field. 

"  What's  the  matter  now  ?"  said  Wardle. 

"  I  v/on't  suffer  this  barrow  to  be  moved  another  step^^"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick,  resolutely,  "  unless  Winkle  carries  that  gun  of  his,  in  a  dif- 
ferent manner." 

"  How  am  I  to  carry  it  ?"  said  the  wretched  Winkle. 

"  Carry  it  with  the  muzzle  to  the  ground,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  It's  so  unsportsman-like,"  reasoned  Winkle. 

"I  don't  care  whether  it's  unsportsman-like  or  not,"  replied  Mr. 
Pickwick  ;  "  I  am  not  going  to  be  shot  in  a  wheelbarrow,  for  the  sake 
of  appearances,  to  please  any  body." 

"  I  know  the  gentleman  '11  put  that  ere  charge  into  somebody  afore 
he's  done,"  growled  the  long  man. 

"  Well,  well — I  don't  mind,"  said  poor  Mr.  Winkle,  turning  his  gun 
stock  uppermost  ; — "  there.'' 

"  Any  thin'  for  a  quiet  life,"  said  Mr.  Weller ;  andon  they  went  again. 

"  Stop,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  after- they  had  gone  a  few  yards  farther. 

"What  now?"  said  Wardle. 

"  That  gun  of  Tupraan's  is  not  safe  :  I  know  it  isn't,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  Eh?  "What!  not  safe  ?"  said  Mr.  Tupman  in  a  tone  of  great  alarm. 

♦•  IVot  as  you  are  carrying  it,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  I  am  very  sorry 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  185 

to  make  any  farther  objection,  but  I  cannot  consent  to  go  on,  unless 
you  carry  it  as  Winkle  does  his" 

"  1  think  you  hacl  better,  sir,"  said  the  long  gamekeeper.  "  or  you're 
quite  as  likely  to  lodge  the  charge  in  your  own  vestcoat  as  any  body 
else's." 

Mr.  Tupman,  with  the  most  obliging  haste,  placed  his  piece  in  the 
position  required,  and  the  party  moved  on  again;  the  two  amateurs 
marched  with  reversed  arms,  like  a  couple  of  privates  at  a  royal  luii  'ral. 

The  dogs  suddenly  came  to  a  deatj  stop,  and  the  party  advancing 
stealthily  a  single  pace,  stopped  too. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  dogs'  legs  *"  whispered  Mr.  Winkle. 
*'  How  queer  they're  standing." 

"  Hush,  can't  you  V*  replied  Wardle,  softly.  "  Don't  you  see  they're 
making  a  point  ?" 

"  Making  a  point !"  said  Mr.  W^inkle,  staring  about  him  as  if  he  ex- 
pected some  particular  beauty  in  the  landscape,  which  the  sagacious 
animals  were  calling  special  attention  to.  "  Making  a  point  I  What 
are  they  pointing  at  1" 

"  Keep  your  eyes  open,"  said  Wardle,  not  heeding  the  question  in 
the  excitement  of  the  moment.     "  Now  then." 

There  was  a  sharp  whirring  noise,  that  made  Mr.  Winkle  start  back 
as  if  he  had  been  shot  himself.  Bang,  banw,  went  a  couple  of  guns — 
the  smoke  swept  quickly  away  over  the  field,  and  curled  into  the  air. 

"  Where  are  they  ■"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  in  a  state  of  the  highest  ex- 
citement, turning  round  and  round  in  all  directions.  "  Where  are 
they  1     Tell  me  when  to  fire.      W  here  are  they — where  are  they  ] 

"  Where  are  they  I"  said  Wardle,  taking  up  a  brace  of  birds  which 
the  dogs  had  deposited  at  his  feet.  "  Where  are  they  I  Why,-  here 
they  are." 

"  IVo,  no  ;  I  mean  the  others,"  said  the  bewildered  Winkle. 

*'  Far  enough  off,  by  this  time,"  replied  Wardle,  coolly  re-loading 
his  gun. 

♦'  We  shall  very  likely  be  up  with  another  covey  in  five  minutes," 
said  the  long  gamekeeper.  *'  If  the  gentleman  begins  to  fire  now, 
perhaps  he'll  just  get  the  shot  out  of  the  barrel  by  the  time  they  rise." 

"Ha!  ha!  ha  !"  roared  Mr.  Weller. 

*'  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  compassionating  his  follower's  confusion 
and  embarrassment. 

"  Sir." 

"  Don't  laugh." 

"Certainly  not,  sir."  So,  byway  of  indemnification,  Mr.  Weller 
contorted  his  features  from  behind  the  wheelbarrow,  for  the  exclusive 
amusement  of  the  boy  with  the  legorings,  who  thereupon  burst  into  a 
boisterous  laugh,  and  was  sunmiarily  cuffed  by  the  long  gamekeeper, 
who  wanted  a  pretext  for  turning  round  to  hide  bis  own  merriment. 

"  Bravo,  old  fellow  I'  said  Wardle  to  Mr.  Tupman  ;  "  you  fired  that 
time  at  all  events." 

"  Oh  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman,  v.'ith  conscious  pride,  "  I  let  it  off." 

"  Well  done.  You'll  hit  something  next  time,  if  you  look  sharp. — 
Very  easy,  ain't  it  T' 

"  Yes,  it's  very  ea.sy,"  said  Mr  Tupman.  «'  How  it  hurts  one's 
shouhler,  though.  It  nearly  knocked  me  backwards.  I  had  no  idea 
these  small  fire-arms  kicked  so." 

16* 


186  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

♦'  Ah,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  smiling  ;  "  you'll  get  used  to  it  in 
time.     Now  then — ail  ready — all  right  with  the  barrow  there  ?" 

"  All  right,  sir,"  replied  Mr;  Weller. 

"Come  alpng,  then." 

"Hold  hard,  sir,"  said  Sam,  raising  the  barrow. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  and  on  Ihey  went  as  briskly  as 
need  be. 

*'  Keep  that  bctrrow  back  now,"  cried  Wardle,  when  it  had  been 
hoisted  over  a  stile  into- another  field,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  l»d  been  de- 
posited in  it  once  more. 

♦'All  right,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  M'eHcr,  pausing. 

"  Now,  Winkle,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  follow  me  softly,  and 
don't  be  too  late  this  time." 

"  Never  fear,"  said  Mr.  Winkle.     "  Are  they  pointing  !"• 

"No,  no;  not  now.  Quietly  now,  quietly."  On  tliey  crept,  and 
very  (juietly  they  would  have  advanced,  if  .Mr.  Winkle,  in  the  per- 
formance of  some  very  intricate  evolutions  with  his  gun,  had  not  ac- 
cidentally fired,  at  the  most  critical  moment,  over  the  bi>y's  head,  ex- 
actly in  the  very  spot  where  the  tall  man's  brains  would  have  been,  had 
he  been  there  instead. 

"  Why,  what  on  earth  did  you  do  that  for  ?"  said  old  Wardle,  as  the 
birds  flew  unharmed  away. 

«  I  never  saw  such  a  gun  in  all  my  life,"  replied  poor  Winkle,  looking 
at  the  lock,  as  if  that  would  do  any  good.  "  It  goes  off,  of  its  own 
accord.     It  will  do  it." 

♦♦  Will  do  it  I"  echoed  Wardle,  with  something  of  irritation  in  his 
manner.     "  I  wish  it  would  kill  something  of  its  own  accord." 

"It'll  do  that  afore  long,  sir,"  observed  the  tall  jnan,  in  a  low,  pro- 
phetic voice." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  lliat  observation,  sir  I"  inquired  Mr.  Winkle, 
angrily. 

"  Never  mind,  sir — never  mind,"  replied  the  long  gamekeeper ; — 
*'  I've  no  family  myself,  sir  ;  and  this  here  boy's  mother  will  gej  some- 
thing handsome  from  Sir  (jieoffrey,  if  he's  killed  on  his  land.  JiOad 
again,  sir — load  again." 

"  Take  away  his  gun,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick  from  the  barrow,  horror 
stricken  at  the  long  man's  dark  insinuations.  "Take  away  his  gun, 
do  you  hear,  somebody  !" 

Nobody,  howc. er,  volunteered  to  obey  the  command  ;  and  Mr.  Win- 
kle, after  darting  a  rebellious  glance  at  Mr.  Pickwick, reloaded  his  gun, 
and  proceeded  onwards  with  the  rest. 

We  are  bound,  on  the  authority  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  to  state,  that  Mr. 
Tupman's  mode  of  proceeding  evinced  far  more  of  prudcnc?  and  de- 
liberation, than  that  adopted  by  Mr.  Winkle.  Still,  this  by  no  means 
detracts  from  the  great  authority  of  the  latter  gentleman,  on  all  matters 
connected  with  the  field ;  because,  as  Mr.  Pickwick  beautifully  observes, 
it  has  somehow  or  other  hajjpened,  from  time  immemorial,  that  many 
of  the  best  and  ablefet  philosophers,  who  have  been  perfect  lights  of 
science  in  matters  of  theory,  have  been  wholly  unable  to  reduce  them 
to  practice. 

"  Mr.  Tupman's  process,  like  many  of  oar  most  sublime  discoveries, 
was  extremely  simple.  With  the  quickness  and  penetration  of  a  man 
of  genius,  he  had  at  once  observed  that  the  two  great  points  to  be 
attained  were — first,  lo  discharge  his  piece  without  injury  to  himself 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  1S7 

and  secondly,  to  do  so,  without  danger  to  the  by-standers  ; — obviously, 
the  best  thing  to  do  after  surmounting  the  difficulty  of  firing  at  all, 
was  to  shut  his  eyes  firmly,  and  fire  into  the  air. 

On  one  occdsion,  after  performing  this  feat,  Mr.  Tupman,  on  open- 
ing his  eyes,  beheld  a  plump  partridge  in  the  very  act  af  falling  wounded 
to  the  ground.  He  was  just  on  the  point  of  congratulating  Wardle  on 
his  invariable  success,  when  that  gentleman  advanced  towards  hina,  and 
grasped  him  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"  Tupman,"'  said  the  old  gentleman,  •'  you  singled  out  that  parucular 
bird  r' 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Tupman — "no." 

"  You  did,"  said  Wardle.  "  I  saw  you  do  it— I  observed  you  pick 
him  out — I  noticed  you  as  you  raised  your  piece  to  take  aim  ; — and  I 
will  say  this,  that  the  best  shot  in  existence  could  not  have  done  it  more 
beautifully.  You  are  an  older  hand  at  this  than  I  thought  you,  Tup- 
man ; — you  have  been  out  before." 

"  It  was  in  vain  for  Mr.  Tupman  to  protest,  with  a  smile  of  self- 
denial,  that  he  never  had.  The  very  smile  was  taken  as  evidence  ta 
the  contrary  ;  and  from  that  time  forth  his  reputation  was  cstablislied. 
It  is  not  the  only  reputation  that  has  been  acquired  as  easily,  nor  are 
such  fortunate  circumstances  confined  to  partridge-shooting. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Winkle  flashed  and  blazed  and  smoked  away  without 
producing  any  material  results  worthy  of  being  noted  down  ;  some- 
times expending  his  charge  in  mid-air,  and  at  others  sending  it  skim- 
ming along  so  near  the  surface  ground  as  to  place  the  lives  of  the  two 
dogs  on  a  rather  uncertain  and  precarious  tenure.  As  a  display  of 
fancy  shooting,  it  was  extremely  varied  and  curious  ;  as  an  exhibition 
of  firing  with  any  precise  object,  it  was,  upon  the  whole,  perhaps,  a 
failure.  It  is  an  established  axiom,  that  '•  every  bullet  has  its  billet." 
If  it  apply  in  an  equal  degree  to  shots,  those  of  Mr.  Winkle  were  un- 
fortunate foundlings,  deprived  of  their  natural  rights,  cast  loose  upon 
the  world,  and  billeted  nowhere. 

"  Well,"  said  Wardle,  walking  up  to  the  side  of  the  barrow,  and 
wiping  the  streams  of  perspiration  from  his  jolly  red  face  ;  "  smoking 
day,  isn't  it !" 

♦'  it  is  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  **  The  sun  is  tremendously 
hot,  even  to  me.     I  don't  know  how  you  must  feel  it." 

*' Why,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "pretty  hot.  It's  past  twelve, 
though.     You  see  that  green  hill  there  1" 

♦•  Certainly." 

♦'  That's  the  place  whore  we  are  to  lunch  ;  and  there's  the  boy  with 
the  basket,  punctual  as  clockwork." 

*'  So  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  brightening  up.  "  Good  boy,  tl^t. 
I'M  give  him  a  shilling  presently.     Now  then,  Sam,  wheel  away." 

•'  Hold  on,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  invigorated  with  the  prospect  of 
refreshments.  "  Out  of  the  vay,  young  leathers.  If  you  wally  my 
precious  life,  don't  upset  me,  as  the  genTman  said  to  the  driver,  when 
they  was  carry  in'  him  to  Tyburn."  And  quickening  his  pace  to  a 
sharp  run,  Mr.  Weller  wheeled  his  master  nimbly  to  the  green  hill, 
shot  him  dextrously  out  by  the  very  side  of  the  basket,  and  proceeded 
to  unpack  it  with  the  utmost  despatch. 

♦'  Weal  pie,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  soliloquizing,  as  he  arranged  the 
eatables  on  the  grass.  '*  Werry  good  thing  is  a  weal  pie,  when  you 
know  the  lady  as  made  it,  and  is  quite  sure  it  an't  kittens  ;  and  arter 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPKRS    OF 


all  thouorh.  wlicrc's  the  odds,  when  they're  so  like  weal  that  the  werry 
picruen  themselves  don't  know  the  difTerence  ?" 

"  Don't  they,  Sam  ]"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Not  they,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  touching  his  hat.  "  I  lodged 
in  the  same  house  vith  a  pieman  once,  sir,  and  a  werry  nice  man  he 
was — reg'lar  clever  chap,  too — make  pies  out  o'  any  thing,  he  could. 

*  What  a  number  o'  cats  you  keep,  Mr.  Brooks,'  said  I,  when  I  got  in- 
timate   with  him.     'Ah,'    says  he,    'I  do — a  good   many,'    says  he. 

*  You  must  be  werry  fond  o'  cats,'  says  I.  *  Other  people  is,'  says  he, 
a  winkin'  at  me  ;  '  they  an't  in  season  till  the  winter  though,'  says  he. 
'  Not  in  season  !'  says  I.  '  No,'  says  he,  '  fruits  is  in,  cats  is  out.' 
'  Why,  what  do  you  mean1'  says  I.  'Mean]'  says  he.  'That  I'll 
never  be  a  party  to  the  combination  o'  the  butchers,  to  keep  up  the 
prices  o'  meat,'  says  he.  '  Mr.  Weller,'  says  he,  squeezing  my  hand 
werry  hard,  and  vispering  in  my  ear — '  don't  mention  this  here  agin, 
but  i'/s  the  seasonin'  as  does  it.  They're  all  made  o'  them  noble 
animals,'  says  he,  a  pointin'  to  a  werry  nice  little  tabby  kitten,  '  and  I 
seasons  'em  for  beefsteak,  weal,  or  kidney,  'cordin'  to  the  demand ; 
am',  more  than  that,'  says  he,  '  I  can  make  a  weal  a  beefsteak,  or  a 
beef.-teak  a  kidney,  or  any  one  on  'em  a  mutton,  at  a  minute's  notice, 
just  as  the  market  changes,  and  appetites  wary  !'  " 

"  He  must  have  been  a  very  in'genious  young  man,  that,  Sam,"  said 
Mr.  Pi'^kwick,  with  a  slight  shudder. 

"  Just  was,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  continuing  his  occupation  of 
emptying  the  basket,  "  and  the  pies  was  beautiful.  Tongue ;  well,  that's 
a  werry  good  thing,  when  it  a'n't  a  woman's.  Bread — knuckle  o'  ham, 
reg'lar  picter — cold  beef  in  slices,  werry  good.  What's  in  them  stone 
jars,  young  touch-and-go  .'" 

"  Beer  in  this  one,"  replied  the  boy,  taking  from  his  shoulder  a  couple 
of  large  stone  bottles,  fastened  together  by  a  leathern  strap — "  cold 
punch  in  t'other." 

"  And  a  werry  good  notion  of  a  lunch  it  is,  take  it  altogether,"  said 
Mr.  Weller,  surveying  his  arrangement  of  the  repast  with  great  satis- 
faction. "  Now,  genTmen,  '  fall  on,'  as  the  English  said  to  the  French 
when  they  fixed  bagginets." 

It  needed  no  second  invitation  to  induce  the  party  to  yield  full  justice 
to  the  meal ;  and  as  little  pressing  did  it  require  to  induce  Mr.  Weller, 
the  long  gamekeeper,  and  the  two  boys  to  station  themselves  on  the 
grass  at  a  little  distance,  and  do  good  execution  upon  a  decent  propor-  ' 
tion  of  the  viands.  An  old  oak  tree  afforded  a  pleasant  shelter  to  the 
group,  and  a  rich  prospect  of  arable  and  meadow  land,  intersected  with 
luxuriant  hedges,  and  richly  ornamented  with  wood,  lay  spread  out 
below  them. 

"  This  is  delightful — thoroughly  delightful !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ; 
the  skin  of  whose  expressive  countenance  was  rapidly  peeling  off  with 
exposure  to  the  sun. 

"  So  it  is — so  it  is,  old  fellow,"  replied  Wardle.  "Come  ;  a  glass 
of  punch." 

"  With  great  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  and  the  satisfaction  of 
his  countenance  after  drinking  it,  bore  testimony  to  the  sincerity  of  the 
reply. 

"  Good,"  said  "Mr.  Pickwick,  smacking  his  lips.  "  Very  good.  I'll 
take  another.     Cool ;  very  cool.     Come,  gentlemen,"  continued  Mr, 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  189 

Pickwick,  still  retaining  his  hold  upon  the  jar,  "  a  toast.     Our  friends 
at  Dingley  Dell." 

The  toast  was  drunk  with  loud  acclamations. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  shall  do  to  get  up  my  shooting  again,"  said 
Mr.  Winkle,  who  was  eating  bread  and  ham  with  a  pocket  knife  "  Til 
put  a  stuffed  partridge  on  the  top  of  a  post,  and  practise  at  it,  beginning 
at  a  short  distance,  and  lengthening  it  bj-  degrees.  I  understand  it's 
capital  practice." 

"  I  know  a  gen'l'man,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "  as  did  that,  and  begun 
at  two  yards  ;  but  he  never  tried  it  on  ao^ain,  for  hn  blowod  the  bird 
right  clean  away  at  the  first  fire,  and  nobody  ever  seed  a  feather  on  him 
afterward." 

"  Sam,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"Have  the  goodness  to  reserve  vonr  anecdotes  till  tliey  are  called 
for." 

**  Cert'nly  sir." 
,  Here  Mr.  Weller  winked  the  eye  which  was  not  concealed  by  the 
beer  can  he  was  raising  to  his  lips    with  such  exquisite  facetiousness, 
that  the  two  hoys  ^?'ent  into  spontaneous  convulsions,   and  even  the 
loner  man  condescended  to  smile. 

"  Well,  that  certainly  is  most  capital  cold  punch,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
looking  earnestly  at  the  stone  bottle  ;"  and  the  day  is  extremely  warm, 
and  Tupman,  my  dear  friend,  a  glass  of  punch]"' 

"  With  the  greatest  delight,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman ;  and  having  drunk 
that  glass,  Mr.  Pickwick  took  another,  just  to  see  whether  there  was 
any  orange  peel  in  the  punch,  because  orange  peel  always  disagreed 
with  him  ;  and  finding  that  there  wa$  not,  Mr.  Pickwick  took  another 
glass  to  the  health  of  their  absent  friend,  and  then  felt  himself  imper- 
atively called  upon  to  propose  another  in  honour  of  the  punch-com- 
pounder,  unknown. 

This  constant  succession  of  glasses  produced  considerable  effect 
upon  Mr.  Pickwick ;  his  countenance  beamed  with  the  most  sunny 
smiles,  laughter  played  around  his  lips,  and  good-humoured  merriment 
twinkled  in  his  eye.  Yielding  by  degrees  to  the  influence  of  the  ex- 
citing liquid,  rendered  more  so  by  the  heat,  Mr.  Pickwick  expressed  a 
strong  desire  to  recollect  a  song  which  he  had  heard  in  his  infancy,  and 
the  attempt  proving  abortive,  sought  to  stimulate  bis  memory  with  more 
glasses  of  punch,  which  appeared  to  have  quite  a  contrary  effect ;  for, 
from  forgetting  the  words  of  the  song,  he  began  to  forget  how  to  arti- 
culate any  words  at  all ;  and  finally,  after  rising  to  his  legs  to  address 
the  company  in  an  eloquent  speech,  he  fell  into  the  barrow,  and  fast 
asleep,  aimultaneously. 

Tlie  basket  having  been  repacked,  and  it  being  found  perfectly  im- 
possible to  awaken  .Mr.  Pickwick  from  his  torpor,  some  discussion  took 
place  whether  it  would  be  better  for  Mr.  Weller  to  wheel  his  master 
back  again,  or  to  leave  him  where  he  was,  until  they  should  all  be  ready 
to  return.  The  latter  course  was  at  length  decided  on  ;  and  a.s  their 
farther  expedition  was  not  to  exceed  an  hour's  duration,  and  as  Mr. 
Weller  begged  very  hard  to  be  one  of  the  party,  it  was  determined  to 
leave  Mr.  Pickwick  asleep  in  the  barrow,  and  to  call  for  him  on  their 
return.  So  away  they  went,  leaving  Mr.  Pickwick  snoring  most  com- 
fortably in  the  shade. 

Th^t  .Mr.  Pickwick  would  have  continued  to  snore  in  the  shade  until 


190  POSTHUMOUS  PAl'EUS   O? 

his  friends  came  back,  or,  in  defaAalt  thereof,  until  the  shades  of  evening 
had  fallen  on  the  landscape,  there  appccirs  no  reasonable  cause  to  doubt ; 
always  supposing  that  he  had  been  suffered  to  remain  there  in  peace. 
But  lie  was  nuc  suifered  to  remain  there  in  peace.  And  this  is  what 
prevented  him. 

Captain  13oldwi;r  was  a  little  fierce  man  in  a  stiff  black  neckerchief 
and  blue  surtout,  who,  when  he  did  condescend  to  walk  about  his  pro- 
perly, did  it  in  company  vvith  a  tliick  rattan  stick,  with  a  brass  ferrule, 
and  a  gardener  and  sub  gardener  with  meek  faces,  to  whom  (the  gard- 
eners, not  the  slick)  Captain  Boldwig  gave  his  orders  with  all  due  gran- 
deur and  ferocity  :  for  Captain  Boldwig's  wife's  sister  had  married  a 
marquis,  and  the  captain's  house  was  a  villa,  and  his  land  "grounds," 
and  it  was  al!  very  high,  and  mighty^  and  great. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  not  been  asleep  half  an  hour,  when  little  Captain 
Boldwig,  followed  by  the  two  gardeners,  came  striding  along  as  fast  as 
his  si/.e  and  importance  would  let  him  ;  and  when  he  came  near  the 
oak  tree,  Captain  Boldwig  paused,  and  drew  a  long  breath,  and  looked 
at  the  prospect,  as  if  he  thought  the  prospect  ought  to  be  highly  grati- 
fied at  having  him  to  take  notice  of  it ;  and  then  he  struek  the  ground 
emphatically  with  his  stick,  and  summoned  the  head-gardener. 

"  Hunt,"'  said  Captain  Boldwig. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  gardener. 

"  Roll  this  place  to-morro\v  morning — do  you  hear,  Hunt?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

*'  And  take  care  that  you  keep  me  this  place  in  good  order — do  you 
hear,  Hunt!" 

♦'Yes,  sir." 

"  And  remind  me  to  have  a  board  done  about  trespassers,  and  spring 
guns,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  to  keep  the  common  people  out.  Do 
3'ou  hear,  Hunt :  do  you  hear  !" 

"  I'll  not  forget  it,  sir." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,''  said  the  other  man,  advancing,  with  his 
hand  to  his  hat. 

"  Well,  Wilkins,  what's  the  matter  with  you  ?"  said  Captain  Boldwig, 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir — but  I  think  there  have  been  trespassers 
here  to-day." 

'Ha  I"  said  the  captain,  scowling  around  him. 

"Yes,  sir — thpy  have  been  dining  here,  I  think,  sir." 

"  Why,  d —  their  audacity,  so  they  have,"  said  Captain  Boldwig,  as 
the  crumbs  and  fragments  that  were  strewn  upon  the  grass  met  his  eye. 
"  They  have  actually  been  devouring  their  food  here.  I  wish  I  had  the 
vagabonds  here  I''  said  the  captain,  clenching  the  thick  stick. 

"  I  wish  I  had  the  vagabonds  here,"  said  the  Captain  wrathfully. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Wilkins,  '•  but — " 
'  '*But  what?     Eh]"  roared  the  captain;  and  following  the  timid 
glance  of  Wilkins,  his  eyes  encountered    the  wheelbarrow  and  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Who  are  you,  you  rascal  1"  said  the  captain,  administering  several 
pokes  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  body  with  the  thick  stick.  "  What's  your 
name  {" 

"  Cold  punch,"  murmured  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  sunk  to  sleep  again. 

"  What !"  demanded  Captain  Boldwig. 

No  reply. 

"  What  did  he  say  his  name  was  ?"  asked  the  captain. 


THE    PICKWICK    ClTJB.  191 

**  Punch,  I  think,  sir,"  replied  Wilkins. 

*•  That's  his  irapudei.ce — that's  his  confounded  impudence,"  said 
Captain  Boldwig.  "  He's  only  feigning  to  be  asleep  now,"  said  the 
captain,  in  a  high  passion.  "  He's  drunk  ;  he's  a  drunken  plebeian. 
M'heel  him  away,  Wilkins,  wheel  him  away  directly." 

*'  Where  shall  I  wheel  him  to,  sir '"  inquired  Wilkins,  with  great 
timidity. 

''  Wheel  him  to  the  Devil,"  replied  Captain  Boldwig. 

*'  Very  well,  sir,'  said  Wilkins. 

"  Stay,''  said  the  captain. 

Wilkins  stopped  accordingly. 

*'  Wheel  him,"  said  the  captain,  ••  wheel  him  to  the  pound  ;  and  let 
tis  see  whether  he  calls  himself  Punch,  when  he  comes  to  himself  He 
shall  not  bully  me — he  shall  not  bully  rae.     Wheel  him  away." 

Away  Mr.  Pickwick  was  wheeled  in  compliance  with  this  imperious 
rpandate  ;  and  the  great  Captain  Boldwig,  swelhng  with  indignation, 
proceeded  on  his  walk.' 

Inexpressible  was  the  astonishment  of  the  little  party  when  they 
returned,  to  find  that  Mr.  Pickwick  had  disappeared,  and  taken  the 
wheelbarrow  with  him.  It  was  the  mjst  mysterious  and  unaccountable 
thing  that  was  ever  heard  of.  For  a  lame  man  to  have  got  upon  his 
legs  without  any  previous  notice,  and  walked  off,  would  have  been 
most  extraordinary  ;  but  when  it  came  to  his  wheeling  a  heavy  barrow 
before  him,  by  way  of  amusement,  it  grew  positively  miraculous.  They 
searched  every  nook  and  corner  round,  together  and  separately  :  they 
shouted,  whistled,  laughed,  called — and  all  with  the  same  resulr.  Mr, 
Pickwick  was  not  to  be  found  ;  and  after  some  hours  of  fruitless 
search,  they  .'irrivcd  at  the  unwelcome  conclusion,  that  they  must  go 
home  without  him. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Pickwick  had  been  wheeled  to  the  pound,  and 
safely  deposited  tiierein,  fast  asleep  in  the  wheelbarrow,  to  the  im- 
niea.sura!)lc  delight  and  satisfaction,  not  only  of  all  the  boys  in  the 
village,  but  three-fourths  of  the  whole  population,  who  had  gathered 
round  in  expectation  of  his  waking.  If  their  most  intense  gratification 
had  been  awakened  by  seeing  him  wheeled  in.  how  many  hundred-fold 
was  their  joy  increased  when,  after  a  few  indistinct  crie.s  of"  Sam  !' 
he  sat  up  in  the  barrow  and  gazed  with  indescribable  astonishment  on 
the  faces  before  him. 

A  general  shout  was  of  coyrsc  the  signal  of  his  having  woke  up  : 
and  his  involuntary  inquiry  of  "  What's  the  matter  ?"  occaaioued 
another,  louder  than  the  first,  if  possible. 

"  Here's  a  game,"  roared  the  populace. 

"  Where  am  I  ?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

•'  In  the  pound,"  replied  the  mob. 

"  How  came  I  here  !  What  was  J  doing  ?  Where  was  I  brought 
from  1" 

"  Boldwig — Captain  Boldwig,"  was  the  only  reply. 

"  Ivct  me  out  I"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Where's  my  servant  ? 
Where  are  my  friends!" 

"You  an't  got  no  friends.  Hurrah!''  And  then  there  came  a 
turnip,  and  then  a  potato,  and  then  an  egg,  with  a  few  other  little 
tokens  of  the  playful  disposition  of  the  many-headed. 

How  long  thi.s  scene  might  have  lasted,  or  how  much  Mr.  Pickwick 
might  have  sulTered,  no  one  can  tell,  had  not  a  carriage,  which  waii 


192  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS  OF 

driving  swiftly  by,  suddenly  pulled  up,  from  whence  there  descended 
old  Wardle  and  Samuel  Weller,  the  former  of  whom,  in  far  less  time 
than  it  takes  to  write  it,  if  not  to  read  it,  had  made  his  way  to  Mr. 
Pickwick's  side,  and  placed  him  in  the  vehicle,  just  as  the  latter  had 
concluded  the  third  and  last  round  of  a  single  combat  with  the  town- 
beadle. 

"  Run  to  the  justice's,"  cried  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Ah,  run  avay,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  jumping  up  on  the  box.  "  Give 
my  compliments — Mr.  Veller's  compliments  to  the  justice,  and  tell  him 
I've  spoilt  his  beadle,  and  that  if  he'll  svear  in  a  new  'un  I'll  come  back 
again  to-morrow  and  spoil  him.     Drive  on,  old  feller." 

"  I'll  give  directions  for  the  commencement  of  an  action  for  false 
imprisonment  against  this  Captain  Boldwig,  directly  I  get  to  London," 
said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  soon  as  the  carriage  turned  out  of  the  town. 

"  We  were  trespassing,  it  seems,"  said  Wardle. 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I'll  bring  the  action." 

*'  No,  you  won't,"  said  Wardle. 

*'  I  wi4l, — "  but  as  there  was  a  humorous  expression  in  W^ardle's 
face,  Mr.  Pickwick  checked  himself,  and  said — "  Why  not  1" 

"  Because,"  said  old  Wardle,  half-bursting  with  laughter,  "  because 
they  might  turn  round  on  some  of  us,  and  say  we  had  taken  too  much 
cold  punch." 

Do  what  he  would,  a  smile  would  come  into  Mr.  Pickwick's  face : 
the  smile  extended  into  a  laugh,  the  laugh  into  a  roar,  and  the  roar 
became  general.  So,  to  keep  up  their  good  humour,  they  stopped  at 
the  first  road-side  tavern  they  came  to,  and  ordered  a  glass  of  brandy 
and  water  -all  round,  with  a  magnum  of  extra  strength  for  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SHOWING  ROW  BODSON  AND  FOGG  WERE  MEN  OF  BUSINESS,  AND  THEIR 
CLERKS  MEN  OF  PLEASURE  :  SHOWING  ALSO  WHAT  CHOICE  SPIRITS  AS- 
SEMBLED AT  THE  MAGPIE  AND  STU.MP,  AND  WH.VT  A  C.VPITAL  CHAPTER 
THE  N2XT  ONE  WILL  DS. 

In  the  ground-floor  front  of  a^  dingy'  house,  at  the  very  farthest  end 
of  Freeman's  Court,  Cornhili,  s'at  the  four  clerks  of  Messrs.  Dodson 
and  Fogg,  two  of  his  majesty's  attorneys  of  the  courts  of  King's  Bench 
and  Common  Pleas  at  Westminster,  and  solicitors  of  the  High  Court 
of  Chancery  ;  the  aforesaid  clerks  catching  about  as  favourable  glimpses 
df  heaven's  light  and  heaven's  sun,  in  the  course  of  their  daily  labours, 
as  a  man  might  hope  to  do,  were  he  placed  at  the  bottom  of  a  reasona- 
bly deep  well ;  and  without  the  opportunity  of  perceiving  the  stars  in 
the  day-time,  which  the  latter  secluded  situation  affords. 

The  clerk's  office  of  Messrs.  Dodson  and  Fogg  was  a  dark,  mould3% 
earthy-smelling  room,  with  a  high  wainscoted  partition  to  screen  the 
clerks  from  the  vulgar  gaze  :  a  couple  of  old  wooden  chairs,  a  very 
loud-ticking  clock,  an  almanac,  and  umbrella-stand,  a  row  of  hat  pegs,^ 
and  a  few  shelves,  on  which  were  deposited  several  ticketed  bundles  of 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  l'J3 

dirty  papers,  some  old  deal  boxes  with  papjer  labels,  and  sundry  decayed 
stone  ink  bottles  of  various  shapes  and  sizes.  .There  was  a  glass  door 
leading  into  the  passage  which  formed  the  entrance  to  the  court,  and 
on  the  outer  side  of  this  glass  door,  Mr.  Pickwick,  closely  followed  by 
Sam  Weller,  presented  himself  on  the  Friday  morning  succeeding  the 
occurrence,  of  which  a  faithful  narration  is  given  in  the  last  chapter. 

"  Come  in,  can't  you,"  cried  a  voice  from  behind  the  partition,  in 
reply  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  gentle  tap  at  the  door.  And  Mr.  Pickwick 
»nd  Sam  entered  accordingly. 

".Mr.  Dodson  or  Mr.  Fogg  at  home,  sir?'  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick, 
gently  advancing,  hat  in  hand,  towards  the  partition. 

*'  Sir.  Dodson  ain't  at  home,  and  Mr.  Fogg's  j>articularly  enc^acred," 
replied  the  voice  ;  and  at  the  same  time  the  head  to  which  the  voice 
belonged,  with  a  pen  behind  its  ear,  looking  over  the  partition,  and  at 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

It  was  a  ragf  ed  head,  the  sandy  hair  of  which,  scrupulously  parted 
on  one  side,  and  flattened  down  with  pomatum,  was  twisted  into  little 
semi-circular  tails  round  a  flat  face  ornamented  with  a  pair  of  small 
eyes,  and  garnished  with  a  very  dirty  shirt-collar,  and  a  rusty  black  stock. 

*'  Mr.  Dodson  ain't  at  home,  and  Mr.  Fogg's  particularly  engaged," 
said  the  man  to  whom  the  head  belonged. 

"  When  will  Mr.  Dodson  be  back,  sir  V  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Can't  say." 

*'  Will  it  be  long  before  Mr.  Fogg  is  disengaged,  sir?" 

*'  Don't  know." 

Here  the  man  proceeded  to  mend  his  pen  with  great  deliberation.  ■ 
■while  another  clerk,  ^ho  was  mi.xing  a  Seidlitz  powder,  under  cover  of 
the  lid  of  his  desk,  laughed  approvingly. 

"I  think  I'll  wait,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  There  was  no  reply  ;  so 
Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  unbidden,  and  listened  to  the  loud  ticking  of 
the  clock  and  the  murmured  conversation  of  the  clerks. 

"  That  was  a  game,  wasn't  it  ?''  said  one  of  the  gentlemen  in  a  brown 
coat  and  brass  buttens,  'inky  drabs  and  Bluchers,  at  the  conclusion  of 
some  inaudible  relation  of  his  previous  evening's  adventures. 

"  Devilish  good — devilish  good,"  said  the  Seidlitz  powder  man. 

"Tom  Cummins  was  in  the  chair,"  said  the  man  with  the  brown 
coat ;  "  it  was  half-past  four  when  I  got  to  Somers  Town,  and  then  I 
was  so  precious  drunk  that  I  couldn't  find  the  place  where  the  latch-key 
went  in,  and  was  obliged  to  knock  up  the  old  'ooman.  I  say,  I  wonder 
what  old  Fogg  'ud  say  if  he  knew  it.  I  should  get  the  sack,  I  s'pose 
— ch  ?" 

At  this  humorous  notion  all  the  clerks  laughed  in  concert. 

"  There  was  such  a  g-  me  with  Fogg  here  this  mornin',"  said  the 
man  in  the  brown  coat,  "while  Jack  was  up  stairs  sorting  the  papers, 
and  you  two  were  gone  to  the  stamp-ofFice.  Fogg  was  down  here  open- 
ing the  letters,  when  that  chap  as  we  issued  the  writ  against  at  Cam- 
berwpn,  you  know,  came  in — what's  his  name  i)sa.'in  I" 

"  Ramsey,"  said  the  clerk  who  had  spoken  to  .Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Ah,  Ramsey — a  precious  seedy  looking  customer.  '  Well,  sir,* 
says  old  Fogg,  looking  at  him  very  fierce — you  know  hfs  way — '  well, 
sir,  have  you  come  to  settle  ■'  *  Yes,  I  have,  sir,'  said  Ramsey  putting 
his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  bringing  out  the  money,  *  the  debt's  two 
pound  ten,  and  the  costa  three  pound  five,  and  here  it  is,  sir ;'  and  he 
sighed  like  bricks  as  he  lugged  out  the  monev,  done  up  in  a  bit  of  blot- 

Vol.  I.— 17 


194  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  Op- 

ting paper.  Old  Fogg  looked  first  at  the  money,  and  then  at  him,  and 
then  he  coughed  in  his  rum  way,  so  that  1  knew  something  was 
coming.  '  You  don't  know  there's  a  declaration  filed  which  increases 
the  costs  materially,  I  suppose  ?'  said  Fogg.  '  You  don't  say  that,  sir,' 
said  Ramsey  starting  back  ;  '  the  time  was  only  out  last  night,  sir.' 
'  I  do  say  it  though,'  said  Fogg;  *  my  clerk's  just  gone  to  file  it  Hasn't 
Mr.  Jackson  gone  to  file  that  declaration  in  Bullman  and  Ramsey,  Mr. 
Wicks  V  Of  course  I  said  yes,  and  then  Fogg  coughed  again,  and 
looked  at  Ramsey.  '  And  here,'  said  Ramsey,  '  have  I  nearly  driven 
myself  mad,  scraping  this  money  together  and  all  to  no  purpose.' — 
'  j\one  at  all,'  s^iid  Fogg  coolly,  '  so  you  had  better  go  back  and  scrape 
some  more  together  and  bring  it  here  in  time.'  '  I  can't  get  it,'  ex 
claimed  Ramsey,  striking  the  desk  with  his  fist.  '  Don't  bully  me,  sir,' 
said  Fogg,  getting  into  a  passion  on  purpose.  '  I  am  not  bullying  you, 
sir,'  said  Ramsey.  'You  are,'  said  Fogg;  'get  ^out,  sir:  get  out  ol 
this  ofllce,  sir,  and  come  back  sir  when  you  know  how  to  behave  your- 
self.' Well,  Ramsey  tried  to  speak,  but  Fogg  wouldn't  let  him  ;  so  he 
put  the  money  in  his  pocket  and  sneaked  out.  The  door  was  scarcely 
shut,  when  old  Fogg  turned  round  to  me  with  a  sweet  smile  on  his  face, 
and  drew  the  declaration  out  of  his  coat  pocket.  'Here  Wicks,'  says 
Fogg,  '  take  a  cab  and  go  down  to  the  Temple  as  quick  as  you  can  and 
file  that.  The  costs  are  quite  safe,  for  he's  a  steady  man  with  a  large 
famil}',  at  a  salary  of  five-and-twenty  shillings  a  week,  and  if  he  gives 
us  a  warrant  of  attorney,  as  he  must  in  the  end,  I  know  his  employers 
will  see  it  paid  ;  so  we  may  as  well  get  all  we  can  out  of  him,  Mr. 
Wicks  ;  it's  a  Christian  act  to  do  it,  Mr.  Wicks,  for  with  his  large  fa- 
mily and  small  income,  he'll  be  all  the  better  for%  good  lesson  against 
getting  into  debt — won't  he,  Mr.  Wicks,  won't  he  V — and  he  smiled 
so  goodnaturedly  as  he  went  away,  that  it  was  delightful  to  see  him. 
He  is  a  capital  i.ian  of  business,"  said  Wicks,  in  a  tone  of  the  deepest 
admiration.     "  Capital,  isn't  hel" 

The  other  three  cordially  subscribed  to  this  opinicm,  and  the  anecdote 
afforded  the  most  unlimited  satisfaction.  • 

"Nice  men  these  here,  sir,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller  to  his  master ; 
"werry  nice  notion  of  fun  they  has,  sir." 

Mr.  Pickwick  nodded  assent,  and  coughed  to  attract  the  attention  of 
the  young  gentlemen  behind  the  partition,  who,  having  now  relaxed 
their  minds  by  a  little  conversation  among  themselves,  condescended 
to  take  some  notice  of  the  stranger. 

"I  wonder  whether  Fogg's  disengaged  now!"  said  Jackson. 

"  I'll  see."  said  Wicks,  dismounting  leisurely  from  his  stool.  "  What 
name  shall  I  tell  Mr.  Fogg  ]" 

"Pickwick,"  replied  the  illustrious  subjecl  of  these  memoirs. 

Mr.  Jackson  departed,  up  stairs  on  his  errand,  and  immediately 
returned  with  a  message  that  Mr.  Fogg  would  see  Mr.  Pickwick  in 
five  minutes  ;  and  having  delivered  it,  returned  again  to  his  desk. 

"  W^hat  did  he  say  his  name  wasl"  whispered  Wicks. 

"Pickwick,"  replied  Jackson;  "it's  the  defendant  in  Bardell  and 
Pickwick." 

A  sudden  scraping  of  feet,  mingled  with  the  sound  of  suppressed 
laughter,  was  heard  from  behind  the  partition. 

"  They're  a  twiggin'  you,  sir,"  whispered  Mr.  Weller. 

'•  Twigging  me,  Sam  !"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  what  do  you  mean 
by  twigging  me  ]" 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  ^  195 

Mr.  Weller  replied  by  pointing  with  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder ; 
and  Mr.  Pickwick,  on  looking  up,  became  sensible  of  the  pleasinor.fact, 
that  all  the  four  clerks,  with  countenances  expressive  of  the  utmost 
amusement,  and  their  heads  thrust  over  the  wooden  screen,  were 
minutely  inspecting  the  figure  and'general  appearance  of  the  supposed 
trifler  with  female  hearts,  and  disturber  of  female  happiness.  On  his 
looking  up  the  row  of  heads  suddenly  disappeared,  and  the  sound  of 
pens  travelling  at  a  furious  rate  over  paper,  immediately  succeeded. 

A  sudden  ring  at  the  bell  which  hung  in  the  office,  summoned  Mr. 
Jackson  to  the  apartment  of  Fogg,  from  whence  he  came  back  to  say 
that  he  (Fogg)  was  ready  to  see  Mr.  Pickwick  if  he  would  step  up  stairs. 

Up  stairs  Mr.  Pickwick  did  step,  accordingly,  leavinfj  Sam  Weller 
below.  The  room  door  (ri  the  one-pair  back,  bore  inscribed  in  legible 
characters  the  imposing* words  -'Mr.  Fogg;'*  and,  having  tapped 
thereat,  and  been  desired  to  come  in,  Jackson  ushered  Mr.  Pickwick 
into  the  presence. 

*'  Is  Mr.  Dodson  in  V'  inquired  Mr.  Fogg. 

"  Just  come  in,  sir,''  replied  Jackson. 

"  Ask  him  to  step  here." 

"Yes,  sir.*'     Exit  Jackson. 

"  Take  a  seat,  sir,"  said  Fogg ;  "  there  is  the  paper,  sir  :  my  partner 
will  be  here  directly,  and  we  can  converse  about  this  matter,  .<5ir." 

Mr.  Pickwick  took  a  seat  and  the  paper,  but,  instead  of  readino-  the 
latter,  peeped  over  the  top  of  it,  and  took  a  survey  of  the  man  of  busi- 
ness, who  was  an  elderly  pimply-faced,  vegetable-diet  sort  of  man,  in 
a  black  coat,  dark  mixture  trousers,  and  small  black  gaiters  ;  a  kind  of 
being  who  seemed  to  be  an  essential  part  of  the  desk  at  which  he  was 
writing,  and  to  have  about  as  much  thought  or  feeling. 

After  a  few  minutes'  silence,  Mr.  Dodson,  a  plump,  portly,  stem- 
looking  man,  with  a  loud  voice,  appeared  ;  and  the  conversation  com- 
menced. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  Fogg. 

"  Ah  !  You  are  the  defendant,  sir,  in  Bardell  and  Pickwick  1"  said 
Dodson. 

"  I  am,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Dodson,  "  and  what  do  you  propose  ^" 
.    "  Ah  I*'  said  Fogg,  thrustirrg  his  hands  into  his  trousers'  pockets, 
and  throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair,  "  what  do  you  propose,  Mr. 
Pickwick] 

'•  Hu.sh,  Fogg,"  said  Dodson,  "  let  me  hear  what  Mr.  Pickwick  has 
to  say." 

"  I  came,  gentlemen,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, — gazing  placidly  on 
the  two  partners, — ''  I  came  here,  gentlemen,  to  expres-s  the  surprise 
with  which  I  received  your  letter  the  other  day,  and  to  inquire  what 
grounds  of  action  you  can  have  against  me." 

'•  Grounds  of" — Fogg  had  ejaculated  thus  much,  when  he  was 
stopped  by  Dodson. 

'•  .Mr.  Fogg,*'  said  Dodson,  "I  am  going  to  speak." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  .Mr.  Dodson,*'  said  Fogg. 

"  P'or  the  grounds  of  action,  sir,"  continued  Dodson,  with  moral 
elevation  in  his  air,  "  you  will  consult  your  own  conscience  and  your 
own  feelings.  We,  sir,  are  guided  entirely  by  the  statement  of  our 
client.  That  statement,  sir,  may  be  true,  or  it  may  be  false  ;  it  may 
be  credible,  or  it  may  be  incredible  ;  but,  if  it  be  true,  and  if  it  be 


19#  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS  OF 

crcdihle,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say,  sir,  that  our  grounds  of  action,  sir, 
are  strong,  and  not  to  be  shaken.  You  may  be  an  unfortunate  man, 
sir,  or  you  may  be  a  designing  one  ;  but  if  I  were  called  upon  as  a 
juryman  upon  my  oath,  sir,  to  express  an  opinion  of  your  conduct, 
sir,  I  do  not  hesitate  to'&ssert  that  I  should  have  but  one  opinion  about 
it."  Here  Dodson  drew  himself  up,  with  an  air  of  offended  virtue, 
and  looked  at  Fo<rg,  who  thrust  his  hands  farther  in  his  pockets,  and, 
nodding  his  head  sagely,  said,  in  a  tone  of  the  fullest  concurrence, 
"  Most  certainly." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  considerable  pain  depicted  in 
his  countenance,  "you  will  permit  me  to  assure  yoa,  that  I  am  a  most 
unfortunate  man,  so  far  as  this  case  is  concerned." 

"I  hope  you  are,  sir,"  replied  Dodson  ;'-*'I  trust  you  may  be,  sir. 
If  you  are  really  innocent  of  what  is  laid  to  your  charge,  you  are  more 
unfortunate  than  I  had  believed  any  man  could  possibly  be.  What 
do  you  say,  Mr.  Fogg  ]" 

"  I  say  precisely  what  you  say,"  replied  Fogg,  with  a  smile  of 
incredulity. 

"  The  WTit,  sir,  which  commences  the  action,"  continued  Dodson, 
*'  was  issued  regularly.     Mr.  Fogg,  where  is  i\\e  protcipe  book  !" 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Fogg,  handing  over  a  square  book,  with  a  parch- 
ment cover. 

'*  Here  is  the  entry,"  resumed  Dodson.  " '  Middlesex,  Capias 
Martha  Bardell,  widow,  v.  Samuel  Pickwick.  Damages,  £1500.  Dod- 
son and  Fogg  for  the  plaintiff,  Sept.  28,  1830.'  AH  regular,  sir ; 
perfectly."  And  Dodson  coughed  and  looked  at  Fogg,  who  said 
"  Perfectly,"  also.     And  then  they  both  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  am  to  understand,  then,"  said  Mr  Pickwick,  "  that  it  really  is 
your  intention  to  proceed  with  this  action  !" 

"  Understand,  sir  ! — that  you  certainly  may,"  replied  Dodson,  with 
something  as  near  a  smile  as  his  importance  would  allow. 

*•  And  that  the  damages  are  actually  laid  at  fifteen  hundred  pounds  ?" 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  To  which  understanding  you  may  add  my  assurance,  that  if  we 
could  have  prevailed  upon  our  client,  they  would  have  been  laid  at  treble 
the  amount,  sir,"  replied  Dodson. 

*'  I  believe  Mrs.  Bardell  specially  said,  however,"  observed  Fogg, 
glancing  at  Dodson,  "  that  she  would  not  compromise  for  a  farthing 
less." 

"  Unquestionably,"  replied  Dodson,  sternly.  For  the  action  was 
only  just  begun  ;  and  it  wouldn't  have  done  to  let  Mr.  Pickwick  com- 
promise it  then,  even  if  he  had  been  so  disposed. 

*'  As  you  offer  no  terms,  sir,"  said  Dodson,  displaying  a  slip  of  parch- 
ment in  his  right  hand,  and  affectionately  pressing  a  paper  copy  of  it 
on  Mr.  Pickwick  with  his  left,  "  I  had  better  serve  you  witli  a  copy  of 
this  writ,  sir.     Here  is  the  original,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  gentlemen,  very  well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rising  in 
person  and  w  rath  at  the  same  time  ;  "  you  shall  hear  from  my  solicitor, 
gentlemen." 

"  We  shall  be  ver}'  happy  to  do  so,"  said  Fogg,  nibbing  his  hands. 

*'  Very,"  said  Dodson,  opening  the  door. 

'*  And  before  I  go,  gentlemen,"  said  the  excited  Mr.  Pickwick,  turn- 
ing round  on  the  landing,  «'  permit  me  to  say,  that  of  all  the  disgraceful 
and  rascally  proceedings — " 


THE  PICKWICK  CLCB.  197 

"  Stay,  sir,  stay,*'  interposed  Dodson,  with  great  politeness.  "  Mr. 
Jackson — Mr.  Wicks." 

*'  Sir,"  said  the  two  clerks,  appearing  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs. 

♦'  I  just  want  you  to  hear  what  this  gentleman  says,"  replied  Dodson. 
*'  Pray,  go  on,  sir — disgraceful  and  rascally  proceedings,  I  think  you 
said." 

"  I  did,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  thoroughly  roused.  "  I  said,  sir,  that 
of  all  the  disgraceful  and  rascally  proceedings  that  ever  were  attempted, 
this  is  the  most  so.     I  repeat  it,  sir." 

'*  You  hear  that,  Mr.  Wicks  !"  said  Dodson. 

"  You  won't  forget  these  expressions,  Mr.  Jackson,"  said  Toss- 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  call  us  swindlers,  sir,"  said  Dodson. 
*' Pray  do,  sir,  if  you  feel  disposed — now  pray  do,  sir." 

"I  do,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     "You  are  swindlers." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Dodson.  *'  You  can  hear  down  there,  I  hope, 
Mr.  Wicks. 

♦'  Oh  yes,  sir,"  sai<l  Wicks. 

"  You  had  better  come  up  a  step  or  two  higher,  if  you  can't,"  added 
M..  Fogg. 

"  Go  on,  sir  ;  do  go  on.  You  had  better  call  us  thieves,  sir  ;  or 
perhaps  youd  like  to  assault  one  of  us.  Pray  do  it,  sir;  if  you  would, 
we  will  not  make  the  smallest  resistance.     Pray  do  it,  sir." 

As  Fogg  put  himself  very  temptingly  within  the  reach  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's clenched  fist,  there  is  little  doubt  that  that  gentleman  would  have 
complied  with  his  earnest  entreaty,  but  for  the  interposition  of  Sam, 
who,  hearing  the  dispute,  emerged  from  the  office,  mounted  the  stairs, 
and  seized  his  master  by  the  arm. 

"  You  just  come  avay,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  *'  Battledore  and  shuttle- 
cock's a  werry  good  game,  vhen  you  an't  the  shuttlecock  and  two  law- 
yers the  battledores,  in  vich  case  it  gets  too  excitin'  to  be  pleasant. 
Come  avay,  sir.  If  you  want  to  ease  your  mind  by  blowing  up  some- 
body, c  )me  out  into  the  court  and  blow  up  me  ;  but  it's  rather  too  ex- 
pensive work  to  be  carried  on  here." 

And  without  the  slightest  ceremony,  Mr.  Wellei^hauled  his  master 
down  the  stairs,  and  down  the  court,  and  having  safely  deposited  him 
in  Cornhill,  fell  behind,  prepared  to  follow  whithersoever  he  should  lead. 

Mr.  Pickwick  walked  on  abstractedly,  crossed  opposite  the  Mansion 
House,  and  bent  his  steps  up  Cheapside.  Sam  began  to  wonder  where 
they  were  going,  when  his  master  turned  round,  and  said — 

"  Sam,  I  will  go  immediately  to  Mr.  Perker's." 

"  That's  just  exactly  the  werry  place  vcre  you  ought  to  have  gone 
last  niirht,"  replied  .Mr.  W^eller. 

*'  I  think  it  is,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  1  JiJtoic  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Well,  well,  .Sain,''  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  '*  we  will  go  there  at 
once  ;  but  first,  as  I  hav?  been  rather  ruffled,  I  should  like  a  glass  of 
brandy  and  water,  warm,  Sam.     Where  can  I  have  it,  Sam  ?" 

Mr.  Weller's  knowledge  of  London  was  extensive  and  peculiar.  Ho 
replied  without  the  slightest  consideration — 

"  Second  court  on  the  right  hand  side — la.st  house  bat  \'un  on  the 
same  side  (he  vay — take  the  box  as  stands  by  the  first  fire-place,  'cos 
there  an't  no  leu  in  the  middle  o'  the  table,  vhich  all  the  others  has, 
and  it's  werry  incnnwenient." 

Mr.  Pickwick  observed  his  valet's  directions  implicitly,  and  bidding 


198  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

Sam  follow  him,  entered  the  tavern  he  had  pointed  out,  where  the  hot 
brandy  and  water  was  speedily  placed  before  him;  while  Mr.  Weller, 
seated  at  a  respectful  distance,  though  at  the  same  table  with  his  mas- 
ter, was  accommodated  with  a  pint  of  porter. 

The  room  was  one  of  a  very  homely  description,  and  was  apparently 
under  the  especial  patronage  of  stage  coachmen  ;  for  several  gentle- 
men, who  had  all  the  appearance  of  belonging  to  that  learned  profes- 
sion, were  drinking  and  smoking  in  the  dilferent  boxes.  A:nong  the 
number  was  one  stout,  red-faced,  elderly  man  in  particular,  seated  in 
an  opposite  box,  who  attracted  Mr.  Pickwick's  attention.  The  stout 
man  was  smoking  with  great  vehemence,  but  between  every  half-dozen 
puffs,  he  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  looked  first  at  Mr.  Weller 
and  then  at  Mr.  Pickwick.  Then  he  would  bury  in  a  quart  pot,  as 
much  of  his  countenance  as  the  dimensions  of  the  quart-pot  admitted 
of  its  receiving,  and  take  another  look  at  Sam  and  Mr.  Pickwick. — 
Then  he  would  take  another  half-dozen  puffs  with  an  air  of  profound 
meditation,  and  look  at  them  again.  And  at  last  the  stout  man,  put- 
ting up  his  legs  on  the  seat,  and  leaning  his  back  against  the  wall, 
began  to  puff  at  his  pipe  without  leaving  off  at  all,  and  to  stare  through 
the  smoke  at  the  new-comers,  as  if  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  see 
the  most  he  could  of  thein. 

At  first  the  evolutions  of  the  stout  man  had  escaped  Mr.  Weller's 
observation,  but  by  degrees,  as  he  saw  Mr.  Pickwick's  eyes  every  now 
and  then  turning  towards  him,  he  began  to  gaze  in  tho.  same  direction, 
at  the  same  time  shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  as  if  be  partially  re- 
cognised the  object  before  him,  and  wished  to  make  quite  sure  of  its 
identity.  His  doubts  were  speedily  dispelled,  however  :  for  the  stout 
man  having  blown  a  thick  cloud  from  his  pipe,  a  hoarse  voice,  like 
some  strange  effort  of  ventriloquism,  emerged  from  beneath  the  capa- 
cious shawls  which  muiHed  his  throat  and  chest,  and  slowly  uttered 
these  sounds — "  Vy,  Sammy." 

*'  AVho's  that,  Sam?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Why,  I  wouldn't  ha'  believed  it,  sir."  replied  Mr.  Weller,  with  as- 
tonished eyes.     "  It's  the  old  "un." 

^'  Old  one,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  What  old  one  1" 

"  My  father,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  '•  How  are  you,  my  ancient'" 
And  with  this  beautiful  ebullition  of  filial  affection,  Mr.  Weller  made 
room  on  the  seat  beside  him  for  the  stout  man,  who  advanced,  pipe  ux 
mouth  and  pot  in  hand  to  greet  him. 

"  Vy,  Sammy,"  said  the  father,  "  I  han't  seen  you  for  two  years  and 
better." 

"  Nor  more  you  have,  old  codger,"  replied  the  son.  "  How's  mo- 
ther-in-law ?" 

"  Vy,  I'll  tell  you  what,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  with  much 
solemnity  in  his  manner  ;  "  there  was  never  a  nicer  woman  as  a  wid- 
der  than  that  'ere  second  wentur  o'  mine — a  sweet  cretur  she  was, 
Sammy  ;  and  all  I  can  say  on  her  now  is,  that  as  she  was  such  an  un- 
common pleasant  widder,  it's  a  great  pity  she  ever  changed  her  condi- 
tion.     She  don't  act  as  a  vife,  Sammy." 

"Don't  she  though  !"  mquired  Mr.  Weller,  junior. 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller  shook  his  head,  as  he  replied  with  a  sigh, 
"  I've  done  it  once  too  often,  Sammy  ;  I've  done  it  once  too  often. — 
Take  example  by  your  father,  my  boy,  and  be  werry  careful  o'  widders 
all  your  life,  specially  if  they  kept  a  public  house,  Sammy  j"  and  having 


THE  PICKWICK  CLtTB.  199 

delivered  this  parental  advice  with  great  pathos,  Mr.Weller  senior  refilled 
his  pipe  from  a  tin  box  he  carried  in  his  pocket :  and,  lighting  his  fresh 
pipe  from  the  ashes  of  the  old  one,  commenced  smoking  at  a  great  rate. 
•  "Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said,  renewing  the  subject,  and  address- 
ing Mr.  Pickwick,  after  a  considerable  pause,  "  nothing  personal,  I 
hope,  sir ;   I  hope  you  han't  got  a  widder,  sir."- 

"Not  I,'"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  laughing;  and  while  Mr.  Pickwick 
laughed,  Sam  Weller  informed  his  parent  in  a  whisper  of  the  relation 
ill  which  he  stood  towards  that  orentleman. 

••  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  taking  off  his  hat, 
"  I  hope  you've  no  fault  to  find  with  Sammy,  sir." 

•♦None  whatever,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Werry  glad  to  hear  it.  sir,''  replied  .'he  old  man  ;  "I  took  a  good 
deal  o'  pains  with  his  eddication.  sir  ;  let  him  run  in  the  streets  when 
he  was  werry  young,  and  shift  for  his-self.  It's  the  only  way  to  make 
a  boy  sharp,  sir." 

"  Rather  a  dangerous  process,  I  should  imagine,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
with  a  smile. 

♦'  And  not  a  werry  sure  one,  neither,  added  Mr.  Weller :  "  I  got 
reg'larly  done  the  other  day." 

"No  I"  said  the  father. 

*'  I  did,''  said  the  son  :  and  he  proceeded  to  relate  in  as  few  words 
as  possible,  how  he  had  fallen  a  ready  dupe  to  the  stratagems  of  Job 
Trotter. 

Mr.  W^elier,  senior  listened  to  the  tale  with  the  most  profound  at- 
tention, and,  at  its  termination,  said — 

"  Worn't  one  o'  these  chaps  slim  and  taU,  with  long  hair,  and  the 
gift  o'  the  gab  werry  gallopin'  ]" 

Mr.  Pickwick  did  not  quite  understand  the  last  item  of  description, 
but,  comprehending  the  first,  said  "  Yes,"  at  a  venture. 

"  T'olher's  a  black-haired  chap  in  mulberr)'  livery,  with  a  werrv  large 
head?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Saim,  with  great  earnest- 
ness. 

•'  Then  I  know  where  they  are,  and  that's  all  about  it,"  said  Mr. 
Weller;  "they're  at  Ipswich,  safe  enough,  them  two." 

"  No  !"  said' Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Fact,"  said  Mr.  Weiler,  "  and  I'll  tell  you  how  I  know  it.  .  I  work 
an  Ipswich  coach  now  and  then  for  a  friend  o'  mine.  I  worked  down 
the  werr^'  day  arter  the  night  as  you  caught  the  rheumatiz,  and  at  the 
Black  Boy  at  Clemsford — the  werry  place  they'd  come  to — I  took  'nn 
up,  right  through  to  Ipswich,  where  the  man  servant — him  in  the  mul- 
berries— tolJ  me  they  was  a  goin'  to  put  up  for  a  long  time.'' 

"  I'll  follow  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  we  may  as  well  see  Ipswich 
as  any  other  place.     I'll  follow  him." 

*•  You're  quite  certain  it  was  them,  governor  1"  inquired  Mr  Weller, 
junior. 

♦•  C^uite,  Sammy,  quite.''  replied  his  father,  *•  for  their  appearance 
is  werry  sing'ler  ;  besides  th;it  'ere,  I  v  ondercd  to  see  the  gen'l'm'n  so 
familiar  with  his  servant ;  and,  more  than  that,  as  they  sat  in  front, 
right  behind  the  box,  I  heard  'em  lau.ghing  and  saying  how  they  done 
old  Fireworks. 

"  Old  who  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Old  Fireworks,  sir,  by  wliich,  I've  no  doubt,  they  meant  you,  sir." 


200  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

There  is  nothing  positively  vile  or  atrocious  in  the  appellation  of 
«  old  Fireworks,"  but  still  it  is  by  no  means  a  respectful  or  flattering 
designation.  The  recollection  of  all  the  wrongs  he  had  sustained  at 
Jingle's  hands,  had  crowded  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  mind  the  moment  Mr. 
Weller  began  to  speak  ;  it  wanted  but  a  feather  to  turn  the  scale,  and 
"  old  Fireworks"  did  it. 

'•  I'll  follow  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  emphatic  blow  on  the 
tab'e. 

"  I  shall  work  down  to  Ipswich  the  day  arter  to-morrow,  sir,"  said 
Mr. ^Weller,  the  elder,  "from  the  Bull  in  Whitechapel ;  and  if  you 
really  mean  to  go,  you'd  belter  go  with  me." 

"  So  we  had,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick ;  "  very  true  ;  I  can  write  to 
Burj',  and  tell  them  to  meet  ^e  at  Ipswich.  We  will  go  with  ybu. 
But  don't  hurry  away,  Mr.  Weller  ;  won't  you  take  any  thing  V 

'*  You're  werry  good,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  stopping  short — 
*♦  perhaps  a  small  glass  of  brandy  to  drink  your  health,  and  success  to 
Sammy,  sir,  wouldn't  be  amiss." 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.     "A  glass  of  brandy  here.'* 

The  brandy  was  brought ;  and  Mr.  Weller,  after  pulling  his  hair  to 
Mr.  Pickwick,  and  nodding  to  Sam,  jerked  it  down  his  capacious 
throat  as  if  it  had  been  a  small  thimble-full. 

"  Well  done,  father,"  said  Sam,  "  take  care,  old  fellow,  or  you'll 
have  a  touch  of  your  old  complaint,  the  gout." 

"  I've  found  a  sov'rin'  cure  for  that,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller, 
setting  down  tlie  glass. 

"  A  sovereign  cure  for  the  gout,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily  pro- 
ducing his  note-book,  "  what  is  it  ?" 

"  The  gout,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  "  the  gout  is  a  complaint  as 
arises  from  too  much  ease  and  comfort.  If  ever  you're  attacked  with 
the  gout,  sir,  jist  you  marry  a  widder  as  has  got  a  good  loud  woice, 
with  a  decent  notion  of  usin'  it,  and  you'll  never  have  the  gout  agin. 
It's  a  capital  prescription,  sir.  I  takes  it  reg'lar,  and  I  can  warrant 
it  to  drive  away  any  illness  as  is  caused  by  too  much  jollity."  Having 
imparted  this  valuable  secret,  Mr.  Weller  drained  his  glass  once  more, 
produced  a  laboured  wink,  sighed  deeply,  and  slowly  retired. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  what  your  father  says,  Saral"  in- 
quired Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  smile. 

'*  Think,  sir  !"  replied  Mr.  Weller  ;  "why,  I  think  he's  the  wictim 
o'  connubiality,  as  Blue  Beard's  domestic  chaplain  said,  with  a  tear  of 
pity,  ven  he  buried  him." 

There  was  no  replying  to  this  very  apposite  conclusion,  and,  there- 
fore, Mr.  Pickwick,  after  settling  the  reckoning,  resumed  his  walk  to 
Gray's  Inn.  By  the  time  he  reached  its  secluded  groves,  however, 
eight  o'clock  had  struck,  and  the  unbroken  stream  of  gentlemen  in 
muddy  high-lows,  soiled  white  hats,  and  rusty  apparel,  who  were 
pouring  towards  the  dilTerent  avenues -of  egress,  warned  him  that  the 
majority  of  thcofficcs  had  closed  for  that  day. 

Alter  climbiiig  two  pairs  of  steep  and  dirty  stairs,  he  found  his 
anticipations  were  realized.  Mr.  Perker's  "  outer  door  "  was  closed  ; 
and  the  dead  silence  which  followed  Mr.  Weller's  repeated  kicks 
thereat,  announced  that  the  oflkials  had  retired  from  business  for  the 
night. 

"  This  is  pleasant,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick;  "  I  shouldn't  lose  an 
hour  in  seeing  him  ;  1  shall  not  be  able  to  get  one  wmk  of  sleep  to- 


THE  PICEWICK  CLUB.  201 

hight,  I  know,  unless  I  have  the  satisfaction  of  reflecting  that  I  have 
confided  this  matter  to  a  professional  man." 

''  Here's  an  old  'ooman  comin'  up  stairs,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller ; 
•'  p'raps  she  knows  where  we  can  rind  somebody.  Hallo,  old  lady, 
vere's  Mr.  Perkcr's  people  !" 

•'  Mr.  Perker's  people,"  said  a  thin  miserable  looking  old  woman, 
stopping  to  recover  breath  after  the  ascent  of  the  staircase,  "  Mr.  Per- 
ker's people's  gone,  and  I'm  a  goin'  to  do  the  office  out." 

*'  Are  you  Mr.  Perker's  servant  ]''  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"I  am  Mr.  Perkers  laundress,"'  replied  the  old  woman. 

'*  Ah,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  half  aside  to  Sam,  "  it's  a  curious  cir- 
cumstance, Sam  that  they  call  the  old  woman  in  these  inns  laundresses. 
I  wonder  what's  that  for." 

"  'Cos  they  have  a  mortal  awersion  to  washin'  any  thin',  I  suppose, 
sir,''  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  at  the  old  woman, 
whose  appearance  as  well  as  the  condition  of  the  office,  which  she  had 
by  this  time  opened,  indicated  a  rooted  antipathy  to  the  application  of 
soap  and  water  ;  "  do  you  know  where  I  can  find  Mr.  Perker,  my  good 
woman  I" 

"  JVo,  I  don't,:'  replied  the  old  woman,  gruffly  ;  "  he's  out  o'  town 
now." 

"  That's  unfortunate,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ; — "  where's  his  clerk — 
do  you  know  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  know  where  he  is,  but  he  would'nt  thank  me  for  telling 
you,"  replied  the  laundress. 

"  I  have  very  particular  business  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Won't  it  do  in  the  morning  !"  said  the  woman. 

"  Not  so  well,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Well,''  said  the  old  woman,  "  if  it  was  any  thing  very  particular,  I 
■was  to  say  where  he  was,  so  I  suppose  there's  no  harm  in  telling,  if 
you  just  go  to  the  Magpie  and  Stump,  and  ask  at  the  bar  for  Mr.  Xow- 
ten,  they'll  show  you  in  to  him,  and  he's  .Mr.  Perker's  clerk." 

With  this  direction,  and  having  been  farthermore  informed  that  the 
hostelry  in  question  was  situated  in  a  court,  happy  in  the  double  ad- 
vantage of  being  in  the  vicinity  of  Clare  Market,  closely  approximating 
to  the  back  of  New  Inn,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  .Sam  descended  the  rickotty 
staircase  in  safety,  and  issued  forth  in  quest  of  the  .Magpie  and  Stump. 

This  favoured  tavern,  s5cred  to  the  evening  orgies  of  Mr.  Lowten 
and  his  companions,  was  what  ordinary  people  would  desijjnate  a  public 
house.  That  the  landlord  was  a  man  of  a  t.ionev-makincr  turn,  was  suf- 
ficiently testiried  by  the  fact  of  a  small  bulk-head  beneath  the  tap- room 
window,  in  size  and  shape  not  unlike  a  sedan-cair,  bein?  underlet  to  a 
mender  of  shoes  :  and  that  he  was  a  being  of  a  philanthropic  mind,  was 
evident  from  the  protection  aiiorded  to  a  pie-man,  who  vended  his 
delicacies  without  fear  of  interruption,  on  the  very  door-»  tep.  In  the  lower 
windows,  which  were  decorated  with  curtains  of  a  salfron  hue,  dangled 
two  or  three  priiUed  cards,  bcarin:j  reference  to  Devonshire  cider  and 
Dantzic  spruce,  while  a  large  black  board,  announcing  in  white  letters 
to  an  enlightened  public,  that  there  were  .')00,000  barrels  of  doultle  stout 
in  the  cellars  of  the  establishment,  left  the  mind  in  a  state  of  r)ot  un»- 
pleasing  doubt  and  uncertainty,  as  to  the  precise  direction  in  the  bowels 
of  the  earth,  in  which  this  miohty  cavern  might  be  supposed  to  extend. 
When  we  add,  that  the  weather-beaten  sign-board  bore  the  half  ol»- 


202  POSTHUMODS  PAPERS  Of 

Jiteratcd  semblance  of  a  magpie  intently  eying  a  crooked  streak  of 
brown  paint,  which  the  neighbours  had  been  taught  from  infancy  to 
consider  as  the  "  stump,"  we  have  said  all  that  need  be  said  of  the 
exterior  of  the  edifice. 

On  Mr.  Pickwick's  presenting  himself  at  the  bar,  an  elderly  female 
emerged  from  behind  a  screen  therein,  and  presented  herself  before  him. 

"Is  Mr.  Lowtcn  here,  ma'am  !"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Yes,  he  is,  sir,"  rephed  the  landlady.  "  Here  Charley,  show  the 
gentleman  in  to  Mr.  Lowten." 

"  The  gcn'l'man  can't  go  in  ju.st  now,"  said  a  shambling  pot-boy, 
with  a  red  head,  "  'cos  Mr.  Lowten's  a  singing  a  comic  song,  and  he'll 
put  him  out.     He'll  be  done  d'rectly,  sir." 

The  red  headed  pot-boy  had  scarcely  finished  speaking,  when  a  most 
unanimous  hammering  of  tables  and  jingling  of  glasses,  announced 
that  the  song  had  that  instant  terOiinated  ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick,  after 
desiring  Sam  to  solace  himsi^lf  in  the  tap,  suffered  himself  to  be  con- 
ducted into  the  presence  of  Mr.  Lowten. 

At  the  announcement  of  "  a  gentleman  to  speak  to  you,  sir,''  a  puffy 
faced  young  man  who  filled  the  chair  at  the  head  of  the  table,  looked 
with  some  surprise  in  the  direction  from  whence  the  voice  proceeded ; 
and  the  surprise  seemed  to  be  by  no  means  diminished  when  his  eyes 
rested  on  an  individual  whom  he  had  never  soen  before. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mr. Pickwick,  "and  I  am  very  sorry  to 
disturb  the  other  gentlemen  too,  but  I  come  on  very  particular  business 
— and  if  you  will  suffer  me  to  detain  you  at  this  end  of  the  room  for 
five  minutes,  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you."' 

The  puffy-faced  young  man  rose,  and  drawing  a  chair  close  to  Mr. 
Pickwick  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the  room,  listened  attentively  to  his 
tale  of  woe. 

"Ah,"  said  he,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  had  concluded  "  Dodson  and 
Fogg — sharp  practice  theirs — capital  men  of  business  is  Dodson  and 
Fogg,  sir."  ,  _ 

Mr.  Pickwick  admitted  the  sharp  practice  of  Dodson  and  Fogg,  and 
Lowten  resumed. 

"  Perker  ain't  in  town,  and  he  won't  be  neither  before  the  end  of 
next  week ;  but  if  you  want  the  action  defended,  and  will  leave  the 
copy  with  me,  I  can  do  all  that's  needful  till  he  comes  back." 

"  That's  exactly  what  I  came  here  for,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  Ijanding 
over  the  document.  '•  If  any  thing  particiilar  occurs,  you  can  write 
to  me  at  the  post-ofRce,  Ipswich." 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Perker's  clerk  ;  and  then  seeing  Mr. 
Pickwick's  eye  wandering  curiously  toward  the  table,  he  added,  "  Will 
you  join  us  for  half  an  hoar  or  so  ?  We  are  capital  company  here  to- 
night. There's  Samkin  and  Gteen's  managing  clerk,  and  Smithers  and 
Price's  chancery,  and  Pimkin  and  Thomas's  out  o'  door — sings  a  capi- 
tal song,  he  does — and  Jack  Bainber,  and  ever  so  many  more.  You're 
com.e  out  of  the  country,  I  suppose.     Would  you  like  to  join  us  ]" 

Mr.  Pickwick  could  not  resist  so  tempting  an  opportunity  of  study- 
ing human  nature.  He  suflered  himself  to  be  led  to  the  table,  where, 
after  having  been  introduced  to  the  company  in  due  form,  he  was  ac- 
commodated with  a  seat  near  the  chairman,  and  called  for  a  glass  of 
his  favourite  beverage. 

A  profound  silence,  quite  contrary  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  expectation, 
succeeded. 

"You  don't  find  this  sort  of  thing  disagreeable,  I  hope,  sir  ^"  saiij 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB. 


203 


his  right  hand  neighbour,  a  gentleman  in  a  checked  shirt  and  Mosaic 
studs,  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick;  "  I  like  it  very  much,  al- 
though I  am  no  smoker  myself." 

"  f  should  be  very  sorry  to  say  I  wasn't,"  interposed  another  gentle- 
man on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table.  "  Ifs  board  and  lodging  to  me, 
is  smoke.'" 

Mr.  Pickwick  glanced  at  the  speaker,  and  thought  that  if  it  were 
washing:  too,  it  would  be  all  the  better.  ' 

Here^therc  was  another  pause.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  a  stranger,  and 
his  cominsr  had  evidently  cast  a  damp  upon  the  party. 

"  Mr.  Grundy's  going  to  oblige  the  company  with  a  song,"  said  the 
chairman. 

"  Xo  he  ain't,"  said  Mr.  Grundy. 

•*  Why  not  ■"  said  the  chairmEin, 

"Because  I  can't,"  said  Mr.  Grundy. 

"You  had  better  say  you  won't,"  replied  the  chairman. 

"  Well,  then,  I  won't,'"  retorted  Mr.  Grundy.  Mr.  Grundy's  posi- 
tive refusal  to  gratify  the  company  occasioned  another  silence. 

"  Won't  any  body  enliven  us  !''  said  the  chairman,  despondingly. 

"Why  don't  you  enliven  us  yourself,  Mr.  Chairman  V  said  a  young 
man  with  a  whisker,  a  squint,  and  an  open  shirt  collar  (dirty)  from  the 
bottom  of  the  table. 

'•  Hear  I  hear  I''  said  the  smoking  gentleman,  in  the  Mosaic  jewellery. 

"  Because  I  only  know  one  song,  and  I  have  sung  it  already,  and 
it's  a  fine  of '  glasses  round  '  to  sing  the  same  song  twice  in  a  night," 
replied  the  chairman. 

This  was  an  unanswerable  reply,  and  silence  prevailed  again. 

"  I  have  been  to-night,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hoping  to 
start  a  subject  in  which  all  the  company  could  take  part  in  discussing, 
"  I  have  been  to-night  in  a  place  which  you  all  know  very  well,  doubt- 
less, but  which  I  have  not  been  in  before,  for  some  years,  and  know  very 
little  of;  I  mean  Gray's  Inn,  gentlemen.  Curious  little  nooks  in  a 
gre-.t  place  like  Lond^m,  these  old  Inns  are." 

"  iSow,"  said  the  chairman,  whispering  across  the  table  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, "  you  have  hit  upon  something  that  one  of  us,  at  least,  would  talk 
upon  for  ever.  You'll  draw  old  Jack  Bamber  out ;  he  was  never  heard 
to  talk  about  any  thing  else  but  the  Inns,  and  he  has  lived  alone  in 
them  till  he's  half  crazy." 

The  individual  to  whom  Lowten  alluded,  was  a  little  yellow  high- 
shouldered  man,  whose  count' nance,  from  his  habit  of  stooping  forward 
when  silent,  Mr.  Pickwick  had  not  observed  before.  He  wondered, 
•though  when  the  old  man  raised  his  shrivelled  face,  and  bent  his  bright 
gray  eye  upon  him.  with  a  keen  and  inquiring  look,  that  such  remarka- 
ble features  could  have  escaped  his  attention  for  a  moment.  There 
was  a  fixed  grim  smile  perpetually  on  his  countenance  ;  he  leant  his 
chin  on  a  long  skinny  hand,  with  nails  of  extraordinary  length  ;  and 
as  he  inclined  his  head  to  one  side,  and  looked  keenly  out  from  beneath 
his  ragged  gray  eye-brows,  there  was  a  strange,  wild  slyness  in  his 
leer,  quite  repulsive  to  behold. 

This  was  the  figure  that  now  started  forward,  and  burst  into  an  ani- 
mated torrent  of  words.  As  this  chapter  has  been  a  long  one,  how- 
ever, and  as  the  old  man  was  a  remarkable  personage,  it  will  be  more 
respectful  to  him,  and  more  convenient  to  us,  to  let  him  speak  for  him- 
self in  a  fresh  one. 


204  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  QV 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

IX  WHICU  THE    OLD  MAN  LAUNCHES  FOBTH  INTO    HIS    FAVOURITE  THEME, 
AND  RELATES  A  STOKY  ABOUT  A  QUEER  CLIENT. 

"  Aha  !"  said  the  old  man,  a  brief  description  of  whose  manner  and 
appearance  concluded  the  last  chapter,  "Aha!  who  was  talking  about 
the  Inns  1" 

'*  I  was,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick — "  I  was  observing  what 
singular  old  places  they  are." 

"  You  .'■'  said  the  old  man  contemptuously — "  What  do  you  know, 
of  the  time  when  young  men  shut  themselves  up  in  those  lonely  rooms, 
and  read  and  read,  hour  after  hour,  and  night  after  night,  till  their 
reason  wandered  beneath  their  midnight  studies  ;  till  their  mental 
powers  were  exhausted  ;  till  morning's  light  brought  no  freshness  or 
health  to  them  ;  and  they  sank  beneath  the  unnatural  devotion  of  their 
youthful  energies  to  their  dry  old  books  ?  Coming  down  to  a  later 
time,  and  a  verj'  ditferent  day,  what  do  you  know  of  the  gradual  sink- 
ing beneath  consumption,  or  the  quick  wasting  of  fever — the  grand 
results  of  '  life '  and  dissipation — which  men  have  undergone  in  those 
same  rooms  !  How  many  vain  pleaders  for  mercy,  do  you  think  have 
turned  awy  heart-sick,  from  the  lawyer's  office,  to  find  a  resting-pface 
in  the  Thames,  or  a  refuge  in  the  jail  ]  They  are  no  ordinary  houses, 
those.  There  is  not  a  panel  in  the  old  wainscoting,  but  what,  if  it 
were  endowed  with  the  powers  of  speech  and  memory,  could  start 
from  the  wall,  and  tell  its  tale  of  horror — the  romance  of  life,  sir,  the 
romance  of  life.  Commonplace  as  they  may  seem  now,  I  tell  yoa 
they  are  strange  old  places,  and  I  would  rather  hear  many  a  legend 
with  a  terrific-sounding  name,  than  the  true  history  of  one  old  set  of 
chambers." 

There  was  something  so  odd  in  the  old  man's  sudden  energy,  and 
the  subject  which  had  called  it  forth,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  was  prepared 
with  no  observation  in  reply  ;  and  the  old  man  checking  his  impetuosi- 
ty, and  resuming  the  leer,  which  had  disappeared  during  his  previous 
excitement,  said — 

"  Look  at  them  in  another  light :  their  most  commonplace  and  least 
romantic :  what  fine  places  of  slow  torture  they  are.  Think  of  the 
needy  man  who  has  spent  his  all,  beggared  himself,  and  pinched  his 
friends,  to  enter  the  profession,  which  is  destined  never  to  yield  a 
morsel  of  bread  to  him.  The  waiting — the  hope — the  disappointment 
— the  fear — the  misery — the  poverty — the  blight  on  his  hopes,  and 
end  to  his  career — the  suicide  perhaps,  or  better  still,  the  shabby,  slip- 
shod drunkard.  Am  I  not  right  about  them,  eh  !"  And  the  old  man 
rubbed  his  hands,  and  leered  as  if  in  delight  at  having  found  another 
point  of  view  in  which  to  place  his  favourite  subject. 

Mr.  Pickwick  eyed  the  old  man  with  great  curiosity,  and  the  re- 
mainder of  the  company  smiled,  and  looked  on  in  silence. 

"  Talk  of  your  German  universities,"  said  the  little  old  man—"  Pooh, 


THE    PICI^WICK    CLCB.  !205 

pooh!  there's  romance  enough  at  home,  without  going  half  a  mile  for 
it ;  only  people  never  think  of  it." 

**  I  ripver  thought  of  the  romance  of  this  particular  subject  before, 
certaink."  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  laughing. 

"To  be  sure  you  didn't,"  said  the  little  old  man.  "  of  course  not. 
As  a  friend  of  mine  used  to  say  to  me,  *  Whai  is  there  in  chambers, 
in  particular  I'  *  Queer  old  places,'  said  I.  '  Not  at  all,'  said  he. 
*  Lonely,'  said  I.  '  Not  a  bit  of  it,'  said  he.  He  died  one  morning 
of  apoplexy,  as  he  was  going  to  open  his  outer  door.  Fell  with  his 
head  in  his  own  letter-bo.x,  and  there  he  lay  for  eighteen  months. 
Every  body  thought  he'd  gone  out  of  town." 

*•  And  how  v.as  he  found  at  la.st  V  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  The  benchers  determined  to  break  his  door  open,  as  he  hadn't  paid 
any  rent  for  two  years.  So  they  did.  Forced  the  lock  ;  and  a  verj' 
dusty  skeleton  in  a  blue  coat,  black  knee-shorts,  and  silks,  fell  forward 
in  the  arms  of  the  porter  who  opened  the  door.  Queer,  that.  Rather, 
perhaps-,  rather ;  eh]"  And  the  little  old  man  put  his  head  more  on 
one  side,  ami  rubbed  his  hands  with  unspeakable  glee. 

"  I  know  another  case,"  said  the  little  old  man,  when  his  chuckles 
had  in  some  degree  subsided — "  It  occurred  in  Clifford's  Inn.  Tenant 
of  a  top  set — bad  character — shut  himself  up  in  his  bed-room  closet,  and 
took  a  dose  of  arsenic.  The  steward  thought  he  had  run  away  :  opened 
the  door,  and  put  a  bill  up.  Another  man  came,  took  the  chambers,  fur- 
nished them,  and  went  to  live  there.  Somehow  or  other  he  couldn't  sleep 
— always  restless  and  uncomfortable.  '  Odd,'  says  he.  *  I'll  make  the 
other  room  my  bed-chamber,  and  this  my  sitting-room.'  He  made  the 
change  and  slept  very  well  at  night,  but  suddenly  found  that  somehow 
he  couldn't  read  in  the  evening :  he  got  nervous  and  uncomfortable,  and 
used  to  be  always  snuffing  his  candles  and  staring  about  him.  ♦  I  can't 
make  this  out,'  said  he,  when  he  came  home  from  the  play  one  night, 
ond  was  drinking  a  glass  of  cold  grog,  with  his  back  to  the  wall^  in 
order  that  he  mightn't  be  able  to  fancy  there  was  any  one  behind  him 
— '  I  can't  make  it  out,'  said  he  ;  and  just  then  his  eyes  rested  on  the 
little  closet  that  had  been  always  locked  up,  and  a  shudder  ran  through 
his  v.ho\e  frame  from  top  to  toe.  'I  have  felt  this  strange  feeling 
before,'  said  he — '  I  cannot  help  thinking  there's  something  wrong 
-^bout  th-it  closet.'  He  made  a  strong  effort,  plucked  up  his  courage, 
shivered  the  lock  with  a'blow  or  two  of  the  poker,  opened  the  door, 
iU'".  there,  sure  enough,  standing  bolt  upright  in  the  corner,  was  the 
last  J.enant,  with  a  little  bottle  clasped  firmly  in  his  hand,  and  his  face 
l;vid  with  the  hue  of  a  painful  death."  As  the  little  old  man  concluded, 
he  look-.xl  round  on  the  attentive  faces  of  his  wondering  auditory  with 
a  smile  6f  grim  delight. 

"  What  strange  things  these  are  you  tell  us  of.  sir,''  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, minutely  scanning  the  old  man's  countenance,  by  the  aid  of  his 
rrlasses. 

"Strange?"  said  the  little  old  man — "Nonsense;  you  think  them 
strange,  because  you  know  nothing  about  it.  They  are  funny,  but  not 
uncommon." 

"Funny  V  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick,  involuntarily. 

"  Yes,  funny,  are  they  not  !"'  replied  the  little  old  man,  with  a  dia- 
bolical leer:  and  then,  without  pausing  for  an  answer,  he  continued — 

"  I  knew  another  man — lot  me  see — it's  forty  years  ago  now — who 
took  an  old  damp  rotten  set  of  chambers,  in  one  of  the  most  ancient 

Vol.  I.— 18 


206  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS   OF 

Inns,  that  had  been  shut  up  and  empty  for  years  and  years  before. 
There  were  lotsof  ol'l  \vomei)'s  stories  about  the  place,  and  it  certainly 
Was  very  far  from  being  a  cheerful  one ;  but  he  was  poor,  and  the  rooms 
■were  cheap,  and  that  would  have  been-quite  a  sufficient  rea;<)n  for  him, 
if  they  had  been  ten  times  worse  than  they  really  were.  He  was 
obliged  to  take  some  mouldering  fixtures  that  were  on  the  place,  and, 
among  the  rest,  was  a  great  lumbering  wooden  press  for  papers  with 
large  glass  doors,  and  a  greien  curtain  inside  ;  a  pretty  useless  thing 
for  him,  for  he  had  no  papers  to  put  in  it ;  and  as  to  his  clothes  he 
carried  them  about  with  him,  and  that  wasn't  very  hard  work,  either. 
Well,  he  had  moved  in  all  his  furniture — it  wasn't  quite  a  trunk-full — 
and  sprinkled  it  about  the  room,  so  as  to  make  the  four  chairs  look  as 
much  like  a  dozen  as  possible,  and  was  sitting  down  before  the  fire  at 
night  drinking  the  first  glass  of  two  gallons  of  whiskey  he  had  ordered 
on  credit,  wondering  whether  it  would  ever  be  paid  for,  and  if  so,  in 
how  many  years'  time,  when  his  eyes  encountered  the  glass  doors  of  the 
wooden  press.  •  Ah  !'  says  he, — '  if  I  hadn't  been  obliged  to  take  that 
Ugly  article  at  the  old  broker's  valuation,  I  might  have  got  something 
comfortable  for  the  money.  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  old  fellow,'  he  said, 
speaking  aloud  to  the  press,  just  because  he  had  got  nothing  else  to 
speak  to—'  If  it  wouldn't  cost  more  to  break  up  your  old  carcass,  than 
it  would  ever  be  worth  afterward,  I'd  have  a  fire  out  of  you,  in  less 
than  no  time.'  He  had  hardly  spoken  the  words,  when  a  sound  re- 
sembling a  faint  groan,  appeared  to  issue  from  the  interior  of  the  case. 
It  startled  him  at  first,  but  thinking,  on  a  moment's  reflection,  that  it 
must  be  some  young  fellow  in  the  next  chambers,  who  had  been  dininnr 
out,  he  put  his  feet  on  the  fender,  and  raised  the  poker  to  stir  the  fire. 
At  that  moment  the  sound  was  repeated  :  and  one  of  the  g\ass  doors 
slowly  opening,  disclosed  a  pale  and  emaciated  figure  in  soiled  and 
"Worn  apparel,  standing  erect  in  the  press.  The  figure  wa.9  tall  and 
thin,  and  the  countenance  expressive  of  care,  and  anxiety;  but  there 
was  something  in  the  hue  of  the  skin,  and- gaunt  and  unearthly  appear- 
ance of  the  whole  form,  which  no  being  of  this  world  was  ever  seen  to 
wear.  ♦  Who  are  you  1"  said  the  new  tenant,  turning  very  pale,  poising 
the  poker  in  his  hand,  however,  and  taking  a  very  decent  aim  at  the 
countenance  of  the  figure — '  Who  are  you  !'  '  Don't  throw  that  poker 
at  me,'  replied  the  form — '  If  you  hurled  it  with  ever  so  sure  an  aim,  it 
would  pass  through  mc,  without  resistance,  end  expend  its  force  ovi 
the  wood  behind.  I  am  a  spirit.'  ♦  And  pray  what  do  you  want  herTel' 
faltered  the  tenant.  '  In  this  room,'  replied  the  apparition,  nny 
worldly  ruin  was  worked,  and  I  and  my  children  beggared.  In  this 
press,  the  papers  in  a  long,  long  suit,  which  accumulated  for  years, 
were  deposited.  In  this  room,  when  I  had  died  of  grief,  and  long- 
deferred  hope,  two  wily  harpies  divided  the  wealth  for  which  I  had 
contested  during  a  wretched  existence,  and  of  which  at  last,  not  one 
farthing  was  left  for  my  unhappy  descendants.  I  terrified  them  from 
the  spot,  and  since  that  day  have  prowled  by  night — the  only  period  at 
which  I  can  revisit  the  earth — about  the  scenes  of  my  long-protracted 
misery.  This  apartment  is  mine  :  leave  it  me.'  '  If  you  insist  upon 
making  your  appearance  here,'  said  the  tenant,  who  had  had  time  to 
collect  his  presence  of  mind  during  this  prosy  statement  of  the  ghost's 
— '  I  shall  give  up  possession  with  the  greatest  pleasure  ;  but  I  should 
like  to  ask  you  one  question,  if  you  will  allow  me.'  *  Say  on,'  said  the 
apparition,  sternly.     '  Weil,'  said  the  tenant,  '  I  don't  apply  the  obscr- 


THE  PirEWICK  CLUB.  207 

ration  personally  to  you,  because  it  is  equally  applicable  to  all  the 
ghosts  I  ever  heard  of;  but  it  does  appear  to  rae,  somewhat  incon- 
sistent, that  when  you  have  an  opportunity  of  visiting  the  fairest  spots 
of  earth — for  I  suppose  space  is  nothing  to  you — you  should  always 
return  exactly  to  the  ver)'  places  where  you  have  been  most  miserable.' 

*  That's  very  true  ;  I  never  thought  of  that  bf  tore,'  said  the  ghost. 

*  You  see,  sir,'  pursued  the  tenanf, '  this  is  a  very  uncomfortable  room. 
From  the  appearance  of  that  press,  I  should  be  disposed  to  say  that  it 
is  not  wholly  free  from  bugs  ;  and  I  really  think  you  might  find  much 
more  comfortable  quarters  :  to  say  nothing  of  the  climate  of  London, 
which  is  extremely  disagreeable.'  *  You  are  very  right,  sir,'  said  tho 
ghost,  politely  ;  '  it  never  struck  me  till  now  ;  I'll  try  change  of  air 
■directly' — and,  in  facf,  he  began  to  vanish  as  he  spoke  ;  his  legs, 
indeed,  had  quite  disappeared."  'And  if,  sir,'  said  the  tenant,  calling 
after  him,  *  if  you  would  have  the  goodness  to  suggest  to  the  other  ladies 
and  gentlemen  who  are  now  engaged  in  haunting  old  empty  houses, 
that  they  might  be  much  more  comfortable  elsewhere,  you  will  confer 
a  very  great  benefit  on  society.'  « I  will,'  replied  the  gho.st ;  '  we  must 
be  dull  fellows — very  dull  fellows,  indeed  ;  I  can't  imagine  how  we 
can  have  been  so  stupid.'  With  these  words,  the  spirit  disappeared; 
and  what  is  rather  remarkable,"'  added  the  old  man  with  a  shrewd  look 
round  the  table,  *'  he  never  came  back  again." 

"  That  ain't  bad,  if  it's  true,"  said  the  man  in  the  Mosaic  studs,  light- 
ing a  fresh  cigar. 

"//•'"  exclaimed  the  old  man,  with  a  look  of  excessive  contempt. 
*'  I  suppose,"  he  added,  turning  to  Lowten,  "  he'll  say  next,  that  my 
«tory  about  the  queer  client  we  had,  when  I  was  in  an  attorney's  office, 
is  not  true,  either — I  shouldn't  wonder." 

"  I  shan't  venture  to  say  any  thing  at  all  about  it,'  seeing  that  I  never 
heard  the  stor\',"  observed  the  owner  of  the  Mosaic  decorations. 

"  I  wish  you  would  repeat  it,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Ah,  do,"  said  Lowten  :  '*  nobody  has  heard  it  but  me,  and  I  have 
nearly  forgotten  it." 

The  old  man  looked  round  the  table,  and  leered  more  horribly  than 
ever,  as  if  in  triumph,  at  the  attention  which  was  depicted  in  every 
face.  Then  rubbmg  his  chin  with  his  hand,  and  looking  up  to  the 
ceiling  as  if  to  recall  the  circumstances  to  his  memorj',  he  began  as 
follows  : — 

THE  OLD  man's  tale  ABOUT  THE  QCEEE  CLIENT 

"It  matters  little,"  said  the  old  man,  "where,  or  how,  I  picked  up 
this  brief  history.  If  I  were  to  relate  it  in  the  order  in  which  it  reached 
me,  I  should  commence  in  the  middle,  and  when  I  had  arrived  at  tho 
conclusion,  go  back  for  a  beginning.  It  is  enough  for  me  to  sav  that 
some  of  its  circumstances  passed  before  niv  own  eyes  ;  for  the  re- 
mainder I  know  them  to  have  happened,  and  there  are  some  pergona 
yet  living  who  will  remember  them  but  too  well. 

"  In  the  Borough  High  Street,  near  Saint  George's  Church,  and  on 
the  same  side  of  the  way,  stands,  as  most  people  know,  the  smallest  of 
our  debtors'  prisons — the  Marshalsea.  Although  in  later  times  it  ha« 
been  a  very  diflerent  place  from  the  sink  of  filth  and  dirt  it  once  wa«, 
even  its  improved  condition  holds  out  but  little  temptation  to  the  extra- 
vagant, or  consolation  to  the  improvident.     The  condemned  Yelon  has 


208  P05THDMOU3  PAPERS  OP 

as  good  a  yard  for  air  and  exercise  in  Newgate,  as  the  insolvent  debtor 
in  the  Marshalsca  prison. 

"  Ii  may  be  my  fancy,  or  it  may  be  that  I  cannot  separate  the  place 
from  the  old  recollections  associated  with  it,  but  this  part  of  London  I 
cannot  bear.  The  street  is  broad,  the  shops  are  spa,cious,  the  noise  of 
pa<:sing  vehicles,  the  footsteps  of  a  perpelyal  stream  of  people — all  the 
busy  sounds  of  traffic,  resound  in  it  from  morn  till  midnight,  but  the 
streets  around  are  mean  and  close  ;  poverty  and  debauchery  lie  fester- 
ing in  the  crowded  alleys,  want  and  misfortune  are  pent  up  in  the  nar- 
row prison  ;  an  air  of  gloom  and  dreariness  seems,  in  my  eyes  at  least, 
to  hang  about  the  scene,  and  to  impart  to  it  a  squalid  and  sickly  hue. 

"  Many  eyes  that  have  long  since  been  closed  in  the  grave  have 
looked  round  upon  that  scene  lightly  enough,  when  entering  the  gale 
of  the  old  Marshalsea  prison  for  the  first  time :  for  despair  seldom  comes 
with  the  first  severe  shock  of  misfortune.  A  man  has  confidence  in 
untried  friends,  he  rememl^ers  the  many  offers  of  service  so  freely  made 
by  his  boon  companions  when  he  wanted  them  not ;  he  has  hope — the 
hope  of  happy  inexperience — and  however  he  may  bend  beneath  the 
first  shock,  it  springs  up  in  his  bosom,  and  flourishes  there  for  a  brief 
space,  until  it  droops  beneath  the  blight  of  disappointment  and  neglect- 
How  soon  have  those  same  eyes,  deeply  sunken  in  the  head,  glared 
from  faces  wasted  with  famine,  and  sallow  from  confinement  in  days 
when  it  was  no  figure  of  speech  to  say  that  debtors  rotted  in  prison, 
with  no  hope  of  release,  and  no  prospect  of  liberty  !  The  atrocity  in 
its  full  extent  no  longer  exists,  but  there  is  enough  of  it  left  to  give 
rise  to  occurrences  that  make  the  heart  bleed. 

"  Twenty  years  ago  that  pavement  was  worn  with  the  footsteps  of  a 
mother  and  child,  who,  day  by  day,  so  surely  as  the  morning  came, 
presented  themselves  at  the  prison  gate ;  often,  after  a  night  of  restless 
misery  and  anxious  thoughts,  were  they  there,  a  full  hour  too  soon,  and 
then  the  young  mother  turning  meekly  away,  would  lead  the  child  to 
the  old  bridge,  and  raising  him  in  her  arms  to  show  him  the  glistening 
water,  tinted  with  the  light  of  the  morning's  sun,  and  stirring  with  all 
the  bu.^tling  preparations  for  business  and  pleasure  that  the  river  pre- 
sents at  that  early  hour,  endeavoured  to  interest  his  thoughts  in  the 
objects  before  him.  But  she  would  quickly  set  him  down,  and  hiding 
her  face  in  her  shawl,  give  vent  to  th?  tears  that  blinded  her,  for  no 
expression  of  interest  or  amusement  lighted  up  his  thin  and  sickly 
face.  His  recollections  were  few  enough,  but  they  were  all  of  one 
kind — all  connected  with  the  poverty  and  misery  of  his  parents.  Hour 
after  hour  had  he  sat  on  his  mother's  knee,  and  with  ciiildish  sympathy 
watched  the  tears  that  stole  down  her  face,  and  then  crept  quietly 
away  into  some  dark  corner,  and  sobbed  himsolf  to  sleep.  The  hard 
realities  of  the  world,  with  many  of  its  worst  privations — hunger  and 
thirst,  and  cold  and  want — had  all  come  home-  to  him,  from  the  first 
dawnings  of  reason;  and  though  the  form  of  childhood  was  there,  its 
light  heart,  its  merry  laugh,  and  sparkling  eyes  were  wanting. 

"  The  father  and  mother  looked  on  upon  this,  and  upon  each  other, 
with  thoughts  of  agony  they  dared  not  breathe  in  words.  The  healthy 
strong  made  man,  who  could  have  borne  almost  any  fatigue  of  active 
exertion,  was  wasting  beneath  the  close  confinement  and  unhealthy 
atmosphere  of  a  crowded  prison.  The  slight  and  delicate  woman  was 
sinking  beneath  the  combined  effects  of  bodily  and  menial  iUness  ;  the 
child's  young  heart  was  breaking. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  209 

**  Winter  came,  and  with  it  weeks  of  cold  and  heavy  rain.  The 
poor  girl  had  removed  to  a  wretched  apartment  close  to  the  spot  of  her 
husband's  imprisonment ;  and  though  the  change  had  been  rendered 
necessary  by  their  increasing  poverty,  she  was  happier  now,-  for  she 
was  nearer  him.  For  two  months,  she  and  her  Uttle  companion  watched 
the  opening  of  the  gate  as  usual.  One  day  she  failed  to  come  for  the 
first  time.  Another  morning  arrived,  and  she  came  alone.  The  child 
•WZLS  dead. 

"  They  little  know,  who  coldly  talk  of  the  poor  man's  bereavements, 
as  a  h:\ppy  release  from  pnin  to  the  departed,  and  a  merciful  relief 
from  expense  to  the  survivor — they  little  know,  I  say,  what  the  agony 
of  those  bereavements  is.  A  silent  look  of  affection  and  regard  when 
all  other  eyes  are  turned  coldly  away — the  consciousness  that  we  pos- 
sess the  sympathy  and  affection  of  one  being  when  all  others  have  de- 
serted us — is  a  hold,  a  stay,  a  comfort  in  the  deepest  affliction,  which 
no  wealth  could  purchase,  or  power  bestow.  The  child  had  sat  at  its 
parents'  feet  for  hours  together,  with  his  little  hands  patiently  folded  in 
€ach  other,  and  his  thin  wan  face  raised  towards  them.  They  had  seen 
him  pine  away  from  day  to  day  ;  and  though  his  brief  existence  had 
been  a  joyless  one,  and  he  was  now  removed  to  that  yieace  and  rest 
which,  child  as  he  was,  he  had  never  known  in  this  world, — they  were 
his  parents,  and  his  loss  sunk  deep  into  their  souls. 

"  It  was  plain  to  those  who  looked  upon  the  mother's  altered 
face,  that  death  must  soon  close  the  scene  of  her  adversity  and  trial. 
Her  husband's  fellov^'-prisoners  shrunk  from  obtruding  on  his  grief  and 
misery,  and  left  to  himself  alone  the  small  room  he  had  previously 
occupied  in  common  with  two  companions.  She  shared  it  with  him  : 
and  lingering  on  without  pain,  but  without  hoper,  her  life  ebbed  slowly 
away. 

"  She  had  fainted  one  evening  in  her  husband's  arms,  and  he  had 
borne  her  to  the  open  window  to  revive  her  with  the  air,  when  the  light 
of  the  moon  falling  full  upon  her  face,  showed  him  a  change  upon  her 
features,  which  made  him  stagger  beneath  her  weight  like  a  helpless 
infant. 

"  *  Set  me  down,  George,'  she  said  faintly.  He  did  so,  and  seating 
himself  beside  her,  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  burst  into 
tears. 

*• '  It  is  very  hurd  to  leave  you,  George,'  she  said,  *  but  it's  God's  will, 
and  you  must  bear  it  for  my  sake.  Oh  !  how  I  thank  him  for  having 
taken  our  boy.  He  is  happy  and  in  heaven  now.  What  would  he  have 
done  here  without  his  mother  ?' 

"  '  You  shall  not  die,  Mary,  you  shall  not  die  ;'  said  the  husband, 
starting  up  He  paced  hurriedly  to  and  fro,  striking  his  head  with  hit* 
clenched  lists  ;  then  reseating  himself  beside  her,  and  supporting  her 
in  his  arms,  ad<led  more  cahnly,  '  Rouse  yourself,  my  dtar  girl— pray, 
pray  do.     You  will  revive  yet.' 

"'Never  again,  George;  never  again!' — said  the  dying  woman. 
'  Let  them  lay  me  by  my  poor  boy  now  ;  but  promise  me,  that  if  ever 
you  leave  thisdreodlul  place,  and  should  grow  rich,  you  will  have  ub 
removed  to  some  quiet  country  churcliyard,  a  long,  long  way  off — 
very  far  from  here,  where  we  can  rest  in  peace.  Dear  George,  pro- 
mise mv  yougivill.' 

**  *  I  do,  I  do" — said  the  man,  throwing  himself  passionately  on  hit 
18* 


210  POSTHDMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

knees  before  her.     '  Speak  to  me,  Mary  ;  another  word  ;  one  look — 
but  one — ' 

"  He  ceased  to  speak  :  for  the  arm  that  clasped  his  neck  grew  stifl 
and  heavy.  A  deep  sigh  escaped  from  the  wasted  form  before  him  ; 
the  Ups  moved,  and  a  smile  played  upon  the  face,  but  the  lips  were 
pallid,  and  the  smile  faded  into  a  rigid  and  ghastly  stare.  He  was 
alone  in  the  world. 

*'  That  night,  in  the  silence  and  desolation  of  his  miserable  tocm, 
the  wretched  man  knelt  down  by  the  dead  body  of  his  wife,  and  called 
on  God  to  witness  a  dreadful  oath,  that  from  that  hour  he  devoted  him- 
self to  revenge  her  death  and  that  of  his  child  ;  that  from  thenceforth 
to  the  last  moment  of  his  life,  his  whole  energies  should  be  directed  to 
this  one  object  ;  that  his  revenge  should  be  protracted  and  terrible  ; 
that  his  hatred  should  be  undying  and  unextinguishable  ;  and  should 
hunt  its  object  through  the  world. 

"The  deepest  despair,  and  passion  scarcely  human,  had  made  such 
fierce  ravages  on  his  face  and  form,  in  that  one  night,  that  his  com- 
panions in  misfortune  shrunk  affrighted  from  him  as  he  passed  by. — 
His  eyes  were  bloodshot  and  heavy,  his  face  a  deadly  white,  and  his 
body  bent  as  if  with  age.  He  had  bitten  his  under  lip  nearly  through, 
in  the  violence  of  his  mental  suffering,  and  the  blood  which  had  flowed 
from  the  wound  had  trickled  down  his  chin,  and  stained  his  shirt  and 
neckerchief.  iS'o  tear  or  sound  of  complaint  escaped  him  ;  but  the 
unsettled  look,  and  disordered  haste  with  which  he  paced  up  and  down 
the  yard,  denoted  the  fever  which  was  burning  within. 

"  It  was  necessary  that  his  wife's  body  should  be  removed  from  the 
prison  without  delay.  He  received  the  communication  with  perfect 
calmness,  and  acquiesced  in  its  propriety.  Nearly  all  the  inmates  of 
the  prison  had  assembled  to  witness  its  removal ;  they  fell  back  on 
either  side  when  the  widower  appeared  ;  he  walked  hurriedly  forward, 
and  stationed  himself,  alone,  in  a  little  railed  area  close  to  the  lodge 
gale,  from  whence  the  crowd,  with  an  instinctive  feeling  of  delicacy, 
had  retired.  The  rude  coffin  was  borne  slowly  forward  on  men's 
shoulders.  A  dead  silence  pervaded  the  throng,  broken  only  by  the 
audible  lamentations  of  the  women,  and  the  shufflinii  steps  of  the 
bearers  on  the  stone  pavement.  They  reached  the  spot  where  the 
bereaved  husband  stood,  and  stopped.  He  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
coffm,  mechanically  adjusted  the  pall  with  which  it  was  covered,  and 
motioned  them  onwards.  The  turnkeys  in  the  prison  lobby  took  off 
their  hats  as  it  passed  through,  and  in  another  moment  the  heavy  gate 
closed  behind  it.  He  looked  vacantly  upon  the  crowd,  and  fell  heavily 
to  the  ground. 

"  Althouf;h  for  many  weeks  after  this,  he  was  watched  night  and 
day,  in  the  wildest  ravings  of  fever,  neither  the  consciousness  of  his  loss, 
nor  the  recollection  of  the  vow  he  made,  ever  left  him  for  a  moment. 
Scenes  changed  before  his  eyes,  place  succeeded  place,  and  event 
followed  event,  in  all  the  hurry  of  delirium  ;  but  they  were  all  con- 
nected in  some  way  with  the  great  object  of  his  mind.  He  was  sailing 
over  a  boundless  expanse  of  sea,  with  a  blood-red  sky  above,  and  the 
angry  waters  lashed  into  fury  beneath,  boiling  and  eddying  up  on  every 
side.  There  was  another  vessel  before  them,  toiling  and  labouring  in 
the  howling  storm  ;  her  canvass  fluttering  in  ribands  ^om  the  mast, 
and  her  deck  thronged  with  figures  who  were  lashed  to  the  sides,  over 
which  huge  waves  every  instant  burst,  sweeping  away  some  devoted 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  211 

creatures  Into  the  foaming  sea.  Onward  they  bore,  amidst  the  roarinij 
mass  of  water,  with  a  speed  and  force  v/hirh  nothing  could  resist  ; 
and  striking  the  stern  of  the  foremobt^  vespel,  crushed  her  benealii 
their  keel.  From  the  huge  whirlpool  which  the  sinking  wreck  occa- 
sioned, arose  a  shriek  so  loud  and  shrill — the  death-cry  of  a  hundred 
drowning  wretc!ies,  blended  into  one  fierce  yell — that  it  rung  far 
above  the  war-cry  of  the  elemenlj,  and  echoed,  and  re-echoed  till  it 
seemed  to^jierce  air,  sky,  and  ocean.  But  what  was  that — that  old 
gray-head  that  rose  above  the  water's  surface,  and  with  looks  of  agony, 
and  screams  for  aid,  buffeted  with  the  waves  1  One  look,  and  he  had 
sprung  from  the  vessel's  side,  and  with  vigorous  strokes  was  swim- 
ming towards  it.  He  reached  it ;  he  was  close  upon  it.  They  were 
his  features.  The  old  man  saw  him  coming,  and  vainly  strove  to 
elude  his  grasp.  But  he  clasped  him  tight,  and  dragged  him  beneath 
the  water.  Down,  down  with  him  fifty  fathoms  deep  ;  his  struggles 
arew  fainter  and  fainter,  until  they  wholly  ceased.  He  vras  dead  ;  he 
had  killed  him,  and  had  kept  his  oath. 

*'  He  was  traversing  the  scorching  sands  of  a  mighty  desert,  bare- 
footed and  alone.  The  sand  choked  and  blinded  hiia  ;  its  fine  thin 
grains  entered  the  very  pores  of  his  skin,  and  irritated  him  almost  to 
madness.  Gigantic  masses  of  the  same  material,  carried  forward  by 
the  wind,  and  shone  through  by  the  burning  sun,  stalked  in  the  distance 
like  pillars  of  living  fire.  The  bones  of  nien,  who  had  perished  in  the 
dreary  waste,  lay  scattered  at  his  feet ;  a  fearful  light  fell  on  every 
thing  around  ;  and  so  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  nothing  but  object.-? 
of  dread  and  horror  presented  themselves.  Vainly  striving  to  utter  a 
cry  of  terror,  with  his  tongue  cleaving  to  his  mouth,  he  rushed  madly 
forward.  Armed  with  supernatural  strength,  he  waded  through  the 
sand,  until  exhausted  with  fatigue  and  thirst,  he  fell  senseless  on  tiie 
earth.  M^bat  fragrant  coolness  revived  him  ;  what  gushing  sound 
was  that  1  Water  I  It  was  indeed  a  well  ;  and  the  clear  fresh  stream 
v»as  running  at  his  feet.  He  drank  deeply  of  it,  and  throwing  his 
aching  limbs  upon  the  bank,  sunk  itito  a  delicious  trance.  The  sound 
of  approaching  footsteps  roused  him.  An  old  gray-headed  man  totter- 
ed forward  to  slake  his  burning  thirst.  It  was  he  again.  He  wound 
his  arms  round  the  old  man's  body,  and  held  him  back.  He  struggled 
in  powerful  convulsions,  and  shrieked  for  water — for  but  one  drop  of 
water  to  save  his  life.  Uut  he  held  the  old  man  firmly,  and  watched 
his  agonies  with  greedy  eyes  ;  and  when  his  lifeless  head  fell  forward 
on  his  bosom,  he  rolled  the  corpse  from  him  with  his  feet. 

'•  When  the  fever  left  him,  and  consciousness  returned,  he  awoke  to 
find  himself  rich  and  free  :  to  hear  that  the  parent  who  would  have  lei 
him  die  in  jail — xcould  !  who  had  let  those  who  were  far  dearer  to  him 
thafl  his  own  existence,  die  of  want  aud  the  sickness  of  heart  that  me- 
dicine c.innot  cure — had  been  found  dead  in  his  bed  of  down.  He  had 
all  the  heart  to  leave  his  son  a  beggar,  but  proud  even  of  his  health  antl 
strength,  he  had  put  off  the  act  till  it  was  too  late,  and  now  might 
gnash  his  teeth  in  the  other  worl-',  at  the  thought  of  the  wealth  his 
remissness  had  left  him.  He  woke  to  this,  and  he  woke  to  more.  To 
recollect  the  purpose  for  which  he  lived,  and  to  remember  that  his  ene- 
my was  his  wife's  own  father — the  man  who  had  cast  him  into  prison, 
and  who,  when  his  daughter  and  her  child  sued  at  his  feet  (w  mercy, 
had  spurned  them  from  his  door.     Oh,  how  he  cursed  the  weakness 


313  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

that  prevented  hira  from  being  up,  and  active,  in  his  scheme  of  ven- 
geance ! 

"  He  caused  himself  to  be  carried  from  the  scene  of  hia  loss  and 
misery,  and  conveyed  to  a  quiet  residence  on  the  sea  coast — not  in  the 
hope  of  recovering  his  peace  of  mind  or  happiness,  for  both  were  fled 
forever,  but  to  restore  his  prostrate  energies,"*  and  meditate  on  his 
darling  object.  And  here,  some  evil  spirit  cast  in  his  way  the  oppor- 
tunity fi)r  his  first,  most  horrible  revenge. 

"  it  was  summer  timu  ;  and  wrapped  in  his  gloomy  thoughts,  he 
would  issue  from  his  solitary  lodgings  early  in  the  evening,  and,  wan- 
dering along  a  narrow  path  beneath  the  cliffs  to  a  wild  and  lonely  spot 
that  had  struck  his  fancy  in  his  ramblings,  seat  himself  on  some  fallen 
fragments  of  the  rock,  and  burying  his  tace  in  his  hands,  remain  there 
for  hours — sometimes  until  night  had  completely  closed  in,  and  the  long 
shadows  of  the  frowning  cliffs  above  his  head  cast  a  thick  black  dark- 
ness on  every  object  near  him. 

"  He  was  seatfl  here,  one  calm  evening  in  his  old  position,  now  and 
then  raising  his  head,  to  watch  the  flight  of  a  seagull,  or  carry  his  eye 
along  the  glorious  crimsor.  path,  which  commencing  in  the  middle  of 
the  ocean,  seemed  to  lead  to  its  very  verge  where  the  sun  was  setting, 
when  the  profound  stillness  of  the  spot  was  broken  by  a  loud  cry  for 
help  ;  he  listened,  doubtful  of  his  having  heard  aright,  when  the  cry 
was  repeated  with  even  greater  vehemence  than  before,  and,  starting 
to  his  feet,  he  hastened  in  the  direction  whence  it  proceeded. 

"  The  tale  told  itself  at  once  :  some  scattered  garments  lay  on  the 
beach  ;  a  human  head  was  just  visible  above  the  waves  at  a  little  dis- 
tance from  the  shore  ;  and  an  old  man  wringing  his  hands  in  agony, 
was  runninor  to  and  fro,  shrieking  for  assistance  The  invalid,  whose 
strength  was  now  suiheiently  restored,  threw  off  his  coat,  and  rushed 
towards  the  sea  with  the  intention  of  plunging  in,  and  dragging  the 
drowninqr  man  ashore. 

*' '  Hasten  here,  sir,  in  God's  name  ;  help,  help,  sir,  for  the  love  of 
Heaven.  He  is  my  son,  sir,  my  only  son,'  said  the  old  man,  franti- 
cally, as  he  advanced  to  meet  him.  '  My  only  son,  sir,  and  he  is  dying 
before  his  father's  eyes.' 

"  At  the  first  word  the  old  man  uttered,  the  stranger  checked  himself 
in  his  career,  and,  folding  his  arms,  stood  perfectly  motionless. 

*' '  Great  God!'  exclaimed  the  old  man,  recoiling — '  Heyling  I' 

"  The  stranger  smiled,  and  was  silent. 

'• '  Heyling  !'  said  the  old  man, 'wildly — '  My  boy,  Heyling,  my  dear 
boy,  look,  look  ;'  and,  gasping  for  breath,  the  miserable  father  pointed 
to  the  spot  whore  the  young  man  was  struggling  for  life. 

*' '  Hark  !'  said  the  old  man — '  He  cries  once  more.  He  is  alive  yet. 
Heyling.  save  him,  save  him.'  • 

"  The  stranger  smiled  again,  and  remained  immoveable  as  a  statue. 

'•  '  I  have  wronged  you,'  shrieked  the  old  man,  falling  on  his  knees, 
and  claspintj  his  hands  together — '  Be  revenged  ;  take  my  all,  my  life ; 
cast  me  into  the  vi-ater  at  your  fi^c',  and,  if  human  nature  can  repress 
a  struggle,  I  will  die,  without  stirring  hand  or  foot.  Do  it,  Heyling, 
do  it.  but  save  my  boy,  he  is  so  youn?,  Heyling,  so  young  to  die.' 

''  Listen,'  said  the  stranofcr,  orasping  the  old  man  fiercely  by  the 
wrist — '  I  will  have  life  for  life,  and  here  is  one.  3/?/ child  died  before 
his  father's  eyes,  a  far  more  agonizing  and  painful  death  than  that 
young  slanderer  of  his  sLtcr's  worth  is  meeting  while  I  speak.     You 


THE  PICKWICK  Ct,0B.  213 

laughfed — laughed  in  your  daughter's  face,  where  death  had  already  set 
his  hand — at  our  suHerings,  then.  What  think  you  of  them  now  ]  See 
there,  see  there.' 

"As  the  stranger  spoke,  he  pointed  to  the  sea.  A  faint  cry  died 
away  upon  its  surface  :  the  last  powerful  struggle  of  the  dying  man 
agitated  the  rippling  waves  for  a  few  seconds  :  and  the  spot  where  he 
had  gone  down  into  his  early  grave  was  undistinguishable  from  the 
surrounding  water. 

*  *  *  *r  ♦  * 

"  Three  years  had  elapsed  when  a  gentleman  alighted  from  a  private 
carriage-  at  the  door  of  a  London  attorney,  then  well  known  to  the  pub- 
lic as  a  man  .of  no  great  nicety  in  his  professional  dealings,  and  re- 
quested a  private  interview  on  business  of  importance.  Although  evi- 
dently not  past  the  prime  of  life,  his  face  was  pale,  haggard,  and  de- 
jected ;  and  it  did  hot  require  the  acute  perception  of  the  man  of  busi- 
ness, to  discern  at  a  glance,  that  disease  or  suffering  had  done  more  to 
work  a  change  in  his  appearance,  than  the  mere  hand  of  time  could 
have  accomplished  in  twice  the  period  of  his  whole  life. 

" '  I  wish  you  to  undertake  some  legal  business  for  me/  said  the 
stranger. 

"  The  attorney  bowed  obsequiously,  and  glanced  at  a  large  packet, 
which  the  gentleman  carried  in  his  hand.  His  visiter  observed  the 
look,  and  proceeded. 

♦' '  li:  is  no  common  business,'  said  he  ;  '  nor  have  these  papers 
reached  my  hands  without  long  trouble  and  great  expense.' 

"  The  attorney  cast  a  still  more  anxious  look  at  the  packet :  and  his 
visiter,  untying  the  string  that  bound  it,  disclosed  a  quantity  of  promis- 
sory notes,  with  some  copies  of  deeds,  and  other  documents. 

"  '  Upon  these  papers,'  said  the  client,  'the  man  whose  name  they 
bear,  has  raised,  as  you  will  sec,  large  sums  of  money,  for  some  years 
past.  There  was  a  tacit  understanding  between  him  and  the  men  into 
whose  hands  they  originally  went — and  from  whom  I  have  by  degrees 
purchased  the  wht  le,  for  treble  and  quadruple  their  nominal  value — that 
these  loans  should  be  from  time  to  time  renewed,  until  a  given  period 
had  elapsed.  Such  an  understanding  is  nowhere  expressed.  He  has 
sustained  many  losses  of  late  ;  and  these  obligations  accumulating  upon 
him  at  once,  would  crush  him  to  the  earth." 

"  The  whole  amount  is  some  thousands  of  pounds,"  said  the  at- 
torney, looking  over  the  papers. 

"  U  is,"  said  the  client, 

''  What  are  we  to  do  !"  inquired  the  man  of  business. 

"Do!"  replied  the  client,  with  sudden  vehemence — '*  Put  every 
engine  of  the  law  in  force,  every  trick  that  ingenuity  can  devise,  and 
rascality  execute  ;  fair  meuiis  and  foul  ;  the  open  oppression  of  the 
law,  aided  l)y  all  the  craft  of  its  most  ingenious  practitioners.  I  would 
have  him  die  a  harassing  and  lingering  death.  Ruin  him,  seize  and 
sell  his  lands  and  yoods,  drive  him  from  house  and  home,  awd  drag  him 
forth  a  beggar  in  his  old  age,  to  die  in  a  common  jail." 

"  '  But  the  costs,  my  dear  sir,  the  costs  of  all  this,'  reasoned  the 
attorney,  when  he  had  recovered  from  his  momentary  surprise, — '  If 
the  defendant  be  a  man  of  straw,  who  is  to  \>:\y  the  costs,  sir  !' 

"  •  xS'amo  any  sum,'  said  the  stranger,  his  liand  trembling  so  violently 
with  e.xcitement,  that  he  could  scarcely  hold  the  pen  he  seized  as  ho 


S14  POSTHUMOCS    PAPERS    OF 

spoke.  '  Any  sum,  and  it  is  yours.  Don't  be  afraid  to  nam^it,  man. 
I  shall  not  think  it  dear,  if  you  gain  my  object ' 

*'  The  attorney  named  a  larijo  sum,  at  hazard,  as  the  advance  he 
should  require  to  secure  himself  against  the  possibility  of  loss :  but 
more  with  the  view  of  ascertaining  how  far  his  client  was  really  dis- 
posed to  go,  than  with  any  idea  that  he  would  comply  with  the  demand. 
The  stranger  wrote  a  check  upon  his  banker  for  the  whole  amount, 
and  left  him. 

"The  draft  was  duly  honoured,  and  the  attorney,  finding  that  his 
strange  client  might  be  safely  relied  upon,  commenced  his  work  in 
earnest.  For  more  than  two  years  afterward,  Mr.  Heyling  would  sit 
whole  days  together,  in  the  office,  poring  over  the  papers  as  they  ac- 
cumulated, and  reading  again  and  again,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  joy, 
the  letters  of  remonstrance,  the  prayers  for  a  little  delay,  the  represen- 
tations of  the  certain  ruin  in  which  the  opposite  party  must  be  involved, 
which  poured  in,  as  suit  aHer  suit,  and  process  after  process,  were 
commenced.  To  all  applications  for  a  brief  indulgence,  there  was  but 
one  reply — the  money  must  be  paid.  Land,  house,  furniture,  each  in 
its  turn,  was  taken  under  some  one  of  the  numerous  executions  which 
were  issued  ;  and  the  old  man  himself  would  have  been  immured  in 
prison,  had  he  not  escaped  the  vigilance  of  the  officers, 'and  fled. 

'•  The  implacable  animosity  of  Heyling,  so  far  from  being  satiated 
by  the  success  of  his  persecution,  increased  a  hundred-fold  with  the 
ruin  he  inflicted.  On  being  informed  of  the  old  man's  flight,  ids  fury 
was  unbounded.  He  gnashed  his  teeth  with  rage,  tore  the  hair  from 
his  head,  and  assailed,  with  horrid  imprecations,  the  men  who  had  been 
intrusted  with  the  writ.  He  was  only  restored  to  comparative  calm- 
ness by  repeated  assurances  of  the  certainty  of  discovering  the  fugitive. 
Agents  were  sent  in  quest  of  him  in  all  directions  ;  every  stratagem 
that  could  be  invented  was  resorted  to,  for  the  purpose  of  discovering 
his  place  of  retreat ;  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  Half  a  year  had  passed 
over,  and  he  was  still  undiscovered. 

*'  At  length,  late  one  night,  HeyliniT,  of  whom  nothing  had  been  seen 
for  many  weeks  before,  appeared  at  his  attorney's  private  residence, 
and  sent  up  word  that  a  gentleman  wished  to  see  him  instantly. 
Before  the  attorney,  who  had  recognised  his  voice  from  above  stairs, 
could  order  the  servant  to  admit  him,  he  had  rushed  up  the  staircase, 
and  entered  the  drawing-room  pale,  and  breathless. — Having  closed 
the  door,  to  prevent  being  overheard,  he  sunk  into  a  chair  and  said,  in 
a  low  voice — 

"  '  Hush  !   I  have  found  him  at  last.' 

"  '  No  !'  said  the  attorney — '  Well  done,  my  dear  sir  ;  well  done.' 

*'  '  He  lies  concealed  in  a  wretched  lodging  in  Camden  Town,'  said 
Heyling — '  Perhaps  it  is  as  well  we  did  lose  sight  of  him,  for  he  has 
been  living  alone  there  in  the  most  abject  misery  all  the  time,  and  he 
is  poor — very  poor,' 

"  '  Very  good,'  said  the  attorney — *  You  will  have  the  caption  made 
to-morrow,  of  course  V 

"  '  Yes,'  replied  Heyling.  '  Stay  !  No  !  The  next  day.  You  are 
surprised  at  my  wishing  to  postpone  it,'  he  added,  with  a  ghastly 
smile  ;  '  but  I  had  forgotten.  The  next  day  is  an  anniversary  in  his 
life  ;  let  it  be  done  then.' 

•"Very  good,'  said  the  attorney — <Will  you  writedown  instruc- 
tions for  the  officer  1' 


THE  PICKWICK  CLCB. 


215 


"  '  No ;  let  him  meet  rac  here,  at  eight  in  the  evening,  and  I  will 
accompany  him  myself.' 

''  They  met  on  the  appointed  night,  and  hiring  a  hackney-coach, 
directed  the  driver  to  stop  at  that  corner  of  the  old  Pancras  road,  at 
which  stands  the  parish  workhouse.  By  the  tim6  they  alighted  there, 
it  was  quite  dark  ;  and,  proceeding  by  the  dead  -wall  in  front  of  the 
Veterinary  Hospital,  they  entered  a  small  by-street,  which  is,  or  was 
at  that  lime,  called  Little  College-street,  and  which,  whatever  it  muy 
be  now,  was  in  those  days  a  desola*te  place  enough,  surrounded  by 
little  else  than  fields  and  ditches. 

*'  Having  drawn  the  travelling  cap  he  had  on,  half  over  his  face,  and 
muffled  himself  in  his  cloak,  Heyling  stopped  before  the  meanest  look- 
ing house  in  the  street,  and  knocked  gently  at  the  door.  It  was  at  once 
opened  by  a  woman,  who  dropped  a  courtesy  of  recognition,  and  Hey- 
linLS  whispering  the  officer  to  remain  below,  crept  gently  up  stairs,  and 
opening  the  door  of  the  front  room^  entered  at  once.  4 

"  The  object  of  his  search,  and  his  unrelenting  animosity,  now  a 
decrepit  old  man,  was  seated  at  a  bare  deal  table,  on  which  stood  a 
miserable  candle.  He  started  on  the  entrance  of  the  stranger,  and 
rose  feebly  to  his  feet. 

*'  '  What  now,  what  now]'  said  the  old  man — 'What  fresh  misery 
is  this  1     What  do  you  want  here  !' 

"  '  A  word  with  yuu,'  replied  Heyling.  As  he  spoke,  he  seated 
himself  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  and,  throwing  off  his  cloak  and 
cap,  disclosed  his  features. 

"  The  old  man  seemed  instantly  deprived  of  the  power  cf  speech. 
He  fell  backward  in  his  chair,  and,  clasping  his  hands  together,  gazed 
on  the  apparition  with  a  mingled  look  of  abhorrence  and  fear. 

"'This  day  six  years,'  said  Heyling,  '  I  claimed  the  life  you  owed 
me  for  my  child's.  Beside  the  lifeless  form  of  your  daughter,  old 
man,  I  swore  to  live  a  life  of  revenge  I  have  never  swerved  from  my 
purpose  for  a  moment's  space  ;  but,  if  I  had,  one  thought  of  her  uncom- 
plaining, sufitring  look,  as  she  drooped  away,  or  of  the  starving  face 
of  our  innocent  child,  would  have  nerved  me  to  my  task.  My  first  act 
of  requital  you  well  remember:  this  is  my  last.' 

"  The  old  man  shivered,  and  his  hands  dropprd  powerless  by  his  side. 

"  '  I  leave  England  to-morrow,'  said  Heyling,  after  a  moment's 
pause. — '  To-night  I  consign  you  to  the  living  death  to  which  you 
devoted  her — a  hopeless  prison — ' 

"  He  raised  his  eyes  to  the  old  man's  countenance,  and  paused.  He 
lifted  the  light  to  his  face,  set  it  gently  down,  and  left  the  apartment. 

"  '  You  had  better  see  to  the  old  man,'  he  said  to  the  woman,  as  he 
opened  the  door,  and  motioned  the  oinccr  to  follow  him  mto  the  street 
— '  I  think  he  is  ill.'  The  woman  closed  the  door,  ran  hastily  up  stairs, 
and  found  him  lifeless.     He  had  died  in  a  fit. 

♦  ♦  ,       #  ♦  ♦ 

"  Beneath  a  plain  grave-stone,  in  one  of  the  most  peaceful  and  se- 
cluded church-yards  in  Kent,  where  wild  flowers  mingled  with  the 
jjra.ss,  and  the  soft  landscape  around  forms  the  fairest  spot  in  the  gar- 
den of  England,  lie  the  bones  of  the  young  mother  and  her  gentle 
child.  But  the  ashes  of  the  father  do  not  mingle  with  theirs  :  nor 
from  that  night  forward  did  the  attorney  ever  gain  the  remotest  clew 
to  the  subsequent  history  of  his  queer  client." 


216  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OP 

As  the  old  man  concluded  his  tale,  he  advanced  to  a  peg  in  one  cor- 
ner, and  taking  down  his  hat  and  coat,  put  them  on  with  great  deliber- 
ation ;  and,  without  sayincj  another  word,  walked  slowly  away.  As 
the  gentleman  w-iththe  Mosaic  studs  had  fallen  asleep,  and  the  major 
part  of  the  company  were  deeply  occupied  in  the  humorous  process  of 
dropping  melted  tallow-grease  into  his  brandy  and  water,  Mr.  Pickwick 
departed  unnoticed,  and  having  settled  his  own  score  and  that  of  Mr. 
Weller,  he  issued  forth,  in  company  with  that  gentleman,  from  beneath 
the  portal  of  the  Magpie  and  Stump. 


CHAPTER  XXIT. 

MR.  PlCKWICX    JOURNEVS    TO  IPSWMCH,  AND  MEETS  WITH  A  ROMANTIC  AD- 
VENTURE WITH  A  MIDDLE-AGED  LADY,  IN  YELLOW  CURL  PAPERS. 

"  That  'ere  vour  governor's  luggage,  Sammy  1"  inquired  Mr.  Wal- 
ler, senior,  of  his  affectionate  son,  as  he  entered  the  yard  of  the  Bull 
Inn,  Whitechapel,  with  a  travelling  bag,  and  a  small  portmanteau. 

'<  You  might  ha'  made  a  worser  guess  than  that,  old  feller,"  replied 
Mr.  Weller'^the  younger,  setting  dovm  his  burden  in  the  yard,  and 
sitting  himself  down  upon  it  cfterward.  "  The  governor  himself  '11 
be  down  here  presently." 

"  He's  a  cabbin'  it,  I  suppose  ?"  said  the  father. 
"  Yes,  he's  a  havin'  two  mile  o'  danger  at  eight -pence,"  responded 
the  son.     "  How's  mother-in-law  this  morn  1 

*'  Queer,  Sammy,  queer,"  replied  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  with  im- 
pressive gravity.  •'  She's  been  getting  rather  in  the  Methodistical 
order  lately,  Sammy  ;  and  she  is  uncommon  pious,  to  be  sure.  She's 
too  good  a  creetur  for  me,  Sammy — I  feel  I  don't  deserve  her." 
"Ah,"  said  Mr.  Samuel,  "that's  werry  self-denyin'  o'  you." 
"  Werr)-,"  replied  his  parent,  with  a  si^h.  "  She's  got  hold  o'  some 
inwention  for  grown-up  people  being  born  again,  Sammy — the  new 
birth,  I  thinks  they  call  it.  I  should  werry  much  like  to  see  that  sys- 
tem in  haction,  Sammy.  I  should  werry  much  like  to  see  your  mother- 
in-law  born  again.     Wouldn't  I  put  her  out  to  nurse  V 

"  What  do  you  think  them  women  does  t'other  day,'*  continued  Mr. 
Weller,  after  a  short  pause,  during  which  he  had  significantly  struck 
the  side  of  his  %)se  with  his  fore-finger,  some  half-dozen  times.  "  What 
do  you  think  they  does  t'other  day,  Sammy  1" 
"  Don't  know,"  replied  Sam,  "  what  1" 

"  Goes  and  gets  up  ^  grand  tea  drinkin'  for  a  feller  they  calls  their 
shepherd,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  I  was  a  standing  starin'  in,  at  the  pic- 
tur  shop,  down  at  our  place,  when  I  sees  a  little  bill  about  it ;  •  tickets 
half-a-crown.  .\11  applications  to  be  made  to  the  committee.  Secre- 
tary, Mrs.  Weller  ;'  and  when  I  got  home,  there  was  the  committee  a 
sittin'  in  our  back  parlour — fourteen  women  ;  I  wish  you  could  ha' 
heard  'em,  Sammy.  There  they  was,  a  passin'  resolutions,  and  wotin' 
supplies,  and  all  sorts  o'  games.  Well,  what  with  your  mother-in-law 
a  worrying  me  to  go,  and  what  with  my  looking  for'ard  to  seein'  some 
queer  starts  if  I  did,  I  put  my  name  down  for  a  ticket ;  at  six  o'clock  on 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  217 

the  Friday  evenin'  I  dresses  myself  out  werry  smart,  and  off  I  goes  with 
the  old  ooman,  and  up  we  walks  into  a  first  floor,  where  there  was  tea 
things  for  thirtjfe  and  a  whole  lot  o'  women  as  begins  whisperin'  to  one 
another,  and  lookin'  at  me,  as  if  they'd  never  seen  a  rayther  stout  gen- 
'I'm'n  of  eight-and-fifty  afore.  By  and  by,  there  comes  a  great  bustle 
down  stairs,  and  a  lanky  chap,  with  a  red  nose  and  white  neckcloth, 
rushes  up,  and  sings  out,  'Here's  the  shepherd  a  coming  to  wisit  his 
faithful  flock  ;'  and  in  comes  a  fat  chap  in  black,  with  a  great  white 
face,  a  smilin'  avay  like  clock-work.  Such  goin's  on,  Sammy.  '  The 
kiss  of  peace,'  says  the  shepherd  ;  and  then  he  kissed  the  women  all 
round,  and  van  he'd  done,  the  man  with  the  red  jiose  began.  I  was 
just  a  thinkin'  whether  I  hadn't  better  begin  too — 'specially  as  there 
was  a  werry  nice  lady  a  sittin'  next  nie — ven  in  comes  the  tea,  and 
•  your  moiher-in-Iaw,  as  had  been  makin'  the  kettle  boil,  down  stairs. 
At  it  they  went,  tooth  and  nail.  Such  a  precious  loud  hymn,  Sammy, 
while  the  tea  was  a  brewing  :  such  a  grace,  such  eaiin'  and  drinkin'. 
I  wish  you  could  ha*  seen  the  shepherd  walkin'  into  the  ham  and  muf- 
fins. 1  never  see  S'lch  a  chap  to  eat  and  drink — never.  The  red-nosed 
man  warn't  by  no  means  the  sort  of  person  you'd  like  to  grub  by  con- 
tract, but  he  was  nothin'  to  the  shepherd-  WeU,  arter  the  tea  was 
over,  they  sang  another  hymn,  and  then  the  shepherd  began  to  preach  : 
and  werry  well  he  did  it,  considerin'  how  heavy  them  muflins  must 
have  lied  on  his  chest.  Presently  he  pulis  up,  all  of  a  sudden,  and 
hollers  out,  'Where  is  the  sinner;  where  is  the  miserable  sinner  1' 
upon  which,  all  the  women  looked  at  me,  and  began  to  groan  as  if  they 
was  dying.  I  thought  it  was  rather  sing'ler,  but.  hows'ever,  I  says 
nothing.  Presently  he  pulls  up  again,  and  lookin'  very  hard  at  me. 
Bays,  ♦  Where  is  the  sinner  ;  where  is  the  miserable  sinner  !'  and  all 
the  women  groans  again,  ten  times  louder  than  afore.  I  got  rather 
savage  at  this,  so  1  takes  a  step  or  two  for'ard  and  says,  '  My  friend,' 
says  I,  'did  you  apply  tiiat  e're  obserwatioi>  to  me  V — 'Stead  of  beggin' 
my  pardon  as  any  gen'I'm'n  would  ha'  done,  he  got  more  abusive  than 
ever;  called  me  a  wessel,  Sammy — awessel  of  wrath — and  all  sorts  o' 
names.  So  my  blood  being  reg'larly  up,  I  first  gave  him  two  or  three 
for  hiinsclf  and  then  two  or  three  more  to  hand  over  to  the  man  with 
the  red  nose,  and  walked  olT.  I  wish  you  could  ha'  heard  how  the  wo- 
men screamed,  Sammy,  ven  the}'  picked  up  the  shepherd  from  under 
the  table.     Hallo  !  here's  the  governor,  the  size  of  life." 

As  Mr.  Weller  spoke,  Mr.  Pickwick  dismounted  from  a  cab,  and 
entered  the  yard. 

"  Fine  mornin',  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior. 

"Beautiful,  indeed,"' — replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Beautifj^l,  indeed,*'  echoed  a  red-haired  man,  with  an  inquisitive 
nose  and  blue  spectacles,  who  had  unpacked  himself  from  a  cab  at  the 
same  moment  as  Mr.  Pickwick.     "  Going  to  Ipswich,  sir  !" 

*'  I  am,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Extraordinary  coincidence.     So  am  I." 

?tlr.  Pickwick  bowed. 

'•  Going  outside  I"  said  the  red-haired  man. 

Mr.  Pifkwick  bowed  again. 

"Bkse  my  soul,  how  remarkable — I  am  going  outside,  too,"  said 
the  red-haired  man  :  "  we  are  positively  going  together."     And  the 
red-haired  man,  who  was  an  important-looking,  sharpcd-nosed,  mys-' 
terious-spoken  personage,  with  a  bird-like  habit  of  giving  his  heacj  a 

Vol.  I!— 19 


218  POSTHUMOCS  PAPERS  OF 

jerk  every  time  he  said  any  thing,  smiled  as  if  he  had  made  one  of  the 
strangest  discoveries  that  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  human  wisdom. 

"  I  am  happy  in  the  prospect  of  your  company,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"Ah,"  said  the  new-comer,  *' it's  a  good  thing  for  both  of  us.  isn't 
it !  Company,  you  see — company  is — is — it's  a  very  different  thing 
from  solitude — a'n't  it  !" 

«'  There's  no  denyin'that  'ere,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  joining  in  the  con- 
versation, with  an  affable  smile.  "  That's  what  I  call  a  self-evident 
proposition,  as  the  dog's-meat  man  said,  when  the  house-maid  told 
him  he  warn't  a  gentleman  " 

"  Ah,"  said  the  red-haired  man,  surveying  Mr.  Weller  from  head  tp 
foot,  with  a  supercilious  look.     "  Friend  of  yours,  sir?" 

"  Not    exactly  a  friend,"    replied    Mr.   Pickwick,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  The  fact  is,  he  is  my  servant,  but  I  allow  him  to  take  a  good  many 
liberties  ;  for,  between  ourselves,  I  flatter  myself  he  is  an  original, 
and  I  am  rather  proud. of  him." 

"Ah,"  said  the  red-haired  man.  "  that,  you  see  is  a  matter  of  taste. 
I  am  not  fond  of  any  thing  original ;  I  don't  like  it ;  don't  see  the 
necessity  for  it.     What's  your  name,  sir  1"  ^ 

'*  Here  is  my  card,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  much  amused  by  the 
abruptness  of  the  question,  and  the  singular  manner  of  the  stranger. 

'*  Ah,"  said  the  red-haired  man,  placing  the  card  in  his  pocket-book, 
"  Pickwick :  very  good.  I  like  to  know  a  man's  name,  it  saves  so 
much  trouble.  That's  my  card,  sir.  Magnus,  you  will  perceive,  sir 
— Magnus  is  my  name.     It's  rather  a  good  name,  I  think,  sir  !" 

"  A  very  good  name,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  wholly  unable  to 
repress  a  smile. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is,"  resumed  Mr.  Magnus.  "  There's  a  good 
name  before  it,  too,  you  will  observe.  Permit  me,  sir — if  you  hold  the 
card  a  little  slanting,  this  wray.  you  catch  the  light  upon  the  up-stroke. 
There — Peter  Magnus — sounds  well,  I  think,  sir." 

"  "Very,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Curious  circumstance  about  those  initials,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 
*'  You  will  observe — P.  M. — post  meridian.  In  hasty  notes  to  intimate, 
acquaintance  I  sometimes  sign  myself  '  Afternoon.'  It  amuses  ray 
friends  very  much,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

"  It  is  calculated  to  afford  them  the  highest  gratification,  I  should 
conceive,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  rather  envying  the  ease  with  which 
Mr.  Magnus's  friends  were  entertained. 

"  Now,  gen'lm'n,"  said  the  hostler,  "  coach  is  ready,  if  you  please." 

"Is  all  my  luggage  in  V  inquired  Mr.  Magnus. 

"  All  right,  sir." 

"  Is  the  red  bag  in?" 

"  All  right,  sir." 

"  And  the  striped  bag  T' 

"  Fore  boot,  sir." 

"  And  the  brown-paper  parcel  1" 

"Under  the  seat,  sir." 

"  And  the  leathern  hat-box  1" 

"They're  all  in,  sir." 

"Now,  will  you  get  up]"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Excuse  me,"  replied  Magnus,  standing  on  the  wheel.  "Excuse 
me,  Mr.  Pickwick.     I  cannot  consent  to  get  up  in  this  state  of  uncer- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  219 

t&inty.     I  am  quite  satisfied  from  that  man's  manner,  that  that  leathern 
hat-box  is  not  in." 

The  solemn  protestations  of  the  hostler  bein^  wholly  unavailing,  the 
leathern  hat-box  was  obliged  to  be  raked  up  from  the  lowest  depth  of 
the  boot,  to  satisfy  him  that  it  had  been  safely  packed  ;  and  after  he 
had  been  assured  on  this  head,  he  felt  a  solemn  presentiment,  first, 
that  the  red  bag  was  mislaid,  and  next  that  the  striped  bag  had  been 
stolen,  and  then  that  the  brown  paper  parcel  had  "  come  untied."  At 
length,  when  he  had  received  ocular  demonstration  of  the  groundless 
nature  of  each  and  every  of  these  suspicions,  he  consented  to  climb  up 
to  the  roof  of  the  coach,  observing  that  now  he  had  taken  every  thing 
oflfhis  mind,  he  felt  quite  comfortable  and  happy. 

*'  You're  given  to  nervousness,  an't  you,  sir  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Weljer, 
senior,  eying  the  stranger  askance,  as  he  mounted  to  his  place. 

•'  Yes  ;  I  always  am,  rather,  about  the.se  little  matters,"  said  the 
stranger,  "but  I  am  all  right,  now, — quite  rioht." 

"  Well,  that's  a  blessin',"'  said  Mr.  Weller. — "  Sammy,  help  your 
master  up  to  the  box  ;  fiither  leg,  sir,  that's  it ;  give  us  your  hand, 
sir.  Up  with  you.  You  was  a  lighter  weight  when  you  was  a  boy, 
sir." 

"  True  enough,  that,  Mr.  Weller."  said  the  breathless  Mr.  Pickwick, 
good-humouredly,  as  he  took  his  seat  on  the  box  beside  him. 

"Jump  up  in  front,  San.my,"  said  .Mr.  Weller.  "Now,  "\''illam, 
run  'em  oot.  Take  care  of  the  archvay,  gen'lm'n.  '  Heads,'  as  the 
pieman  says.  That'll  do,  Villam.  Let  'em  alone."  And  away  went 
the  coach  up  Whitechapel,  to  the  admiration  of  the  whole  population 
of  that  pretty  densely  populated  quarter. 

"Not  a  werry  nice  neighbourhood  this,  sir,"  said  Sam,  with  the 
touch  of  the  hat  which  always  preceded  his  entering  into  conversation 
with  his  master. 

'•  It  is  not.  indeed,  Sam,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  surveying  the 
crowded  and  filthy  street  through  which  they  were  passing. 

"  It's  a  werry  remarkable  circumstance,  sir,"  said  Sara,  "  that  poverty 
and  oysters  always  seems  to  go  together." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"What  I  mean,  sir,"  said  Sam,  "is,  that  the  poorer  a  place  is,  the 
greater  call  there  seems  to  be  for  oysters.     Look  here,  sir ;  here's  a* 
oyster  stall  to  every  half-dozen  houses — the  street's  lined  vith  'em. 
Blessed  if  I  dont  think  that  ven  a  man's  werry  poor,  he  rushes  out  of 
his  lodgings,  and  eats  oysters  in  reg'lar  desperation." 

"  To  be  sure  he  does,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  "and  it's  just  the 
same  with  pickled  salmon  !" 

"  Those  are  two  very  remarkable  facts,  which  never  occurred  to  mo 
before,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  the  very  first  place  we  stop  at,  I'll  make 
a  note  of  them."' 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  turnpike  at  Mile  End  ;  a  profound 
silence  prevailed,  until  they  had  got  two  or  three  miles  further  on,  when 
J.Ir.  Weller,  senior,  turninir  suddenly  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  said— 

"  Werry  queer  life  is  a  pike-keeper's,  sir." 

"  A  what  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"A  pike-keeper." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  pike-keeper''"  inquired  Mr.  Peter  Magnus. 

"The  old  'un  means  a  turnpike  keeper,  gcnTraen,"  observed  Mr. 
Weller  in  explanation. 


220  *  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS  OK 

♦*  Oh,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  see.  Yes,  very  curious  life.  Very- 
uncomfortable." 

"  They're  all  on  'em   men  as  has  met  vith  some  disappointment  in 
life,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  seninr. 
"  Ay,  ay  ?"  said  Mr.  Picksvick. 

*'  Yes.  Consequence  uf  vich  they  retires  from  the  world,  and  shuts 
themselves  up  in  pikes ;  partly  with  the  view  of  being  solitary,  and 
partly  to  rewenge  themselves  on  mankind  by  takin'  lolls. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  .Mr.  Pickwick,  *'  I  never  knew  that  before."        W 
"  Fact,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  "if  they  was  gen'lni'n,  you'd  call  ''cm 
misanthropes,  but  as  it  is  they  only  takes  to  pike  keepin'." 

With  such  conversation,  possessing  the  inestimable  charm  of  blend- 
ing amusement  with  in.-^truction,  did  Mr.  Weller  beguile  the  ledions- 
ness  of  the  journey,  during  the  greater  part  of  the  day.  Topics  of 
conversation  were  never  wanting,  for  even  when  any  pause  occurred 
in  Mr.  Weller's  loquacity,  it  was  abundantly  supplied  by  the  desire 
evinced  by  Mr.  Magnus  to  make  himself  acquainted  with  the  whole 
cf  the  personal  histi)ry  of  his  fellow-travellers,  and  his  loudly  express- 
ed anxiety  at  every  stage,  respecting  the  safety  and  well-being  of  the 
two  bags,  the  leathern  hat-bov,  and  the  brown  paper-J)arcel. 
'  In  the  main  street  of  Ipswich,  on  the  left  hand  side  of  the  way.  a 
short  distance  after  you  have  passed  through  the  open  space  fronting 
the  Town  Hall,  stands  an  inn,  known  far  and  wide  by  the  appellation 
of  the  "  The  Great  ^Vhite  Horse,"  rendered  the  more  con.'picuous  by 
!&  stone  statue  of  some  rampacious  animal,  with  flowing  mane  and  tail 
— distantly  resembling  an  insane  cart-horse,  which  is  elevated  above 
the  principal  door.  The  Great  White  Horse  is  famous  in  the  neigh- 
Lorhood,  in  the  same  degree  as  a  prize  ox,  or  county  paper  chronicled 
turnip,  or  unwieldy  pig — for  its  enormous  size.  Never  were  such  la- 
byrinths of  uncarpeted  passages,  such  clusters  of  mouldy,  badly  lighted 
rooms,  such  huge  nuiDbers  of  small  dens  for  eating  or  sleeping  in,  be- 
neath any  one  roof  as  are  collected  together  between  the  four  walls  of 
the  Great  White  Horse  at  Ipswich. 

It  was  at  the  door  of  this  overgrown  tavern  that  the  I^ondon  coach 
stopped  at  the  same  hour  every  evening;  and  it  was  from  this  same 
London  coach  that  Mr.  Pickwick,  Sam  Weller,  and  Mr.  Peter  Magnus 
dismounted,  on  the  particular  evening  to  which  this  chapter  of  our 
history  bears  reference. 

"  Do  you  stop  here,  sir  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  when  the 
striped  bag,  and  the  red  bag,  and  tlie  brown  paper  parcel,  and  the 
leathern  hat-box,  had  all  been  deposited  in  the  passage.  "  Do  you 
stop  here,  sir  ]" 

"  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  "  I  never  knew  any  thing  like  tl>ese 
extraordinary  coincidences.  Why  I  stop  here  too.  I  hope  we  dine 
together. 

"  With  pleasure,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  '  "  I  am  not  quite  certain 
whether  I  have  any  friends  here  or  not,  though.  Is  there  any  gentle- 
man of  the  name  of  Tupman  here,  waiter  V 

A  corpulent  man,  with  a  fortnight's  napkin  under  his  arm,  and  coeval 
stockings  on  his  legs,  slov»ly  desisted  from  his  occupation  of  staring 
down  the  street  on  this  question  being  put  to  him  by  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  and 
after  minutely  inspecting  that  ijentlenjan's  appearance,  from  the  crown 
of  his  hat  to  the  Iqwest  button  of  his  gaiters,  replied  emphatically — 


THB  PICKWICK  CLUB.  22} 

«No." 

"Nor  any  gentleman  of  the  name  of  SnodgrassT'  inquired  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

«'No!" 

"  Nor  Winkle  1" 

"No." 

"My  friends  have  not  ariived  to-day,  sir,'"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "We 
will  dine  alone,  then.     '*  Show  us  a  private  room,  waiter." 

On  this  request  being  preferred,  the  corpulent  man  condescended  to 
order  the  boots  to  b^ing  in  the  gentleman's  lui/gage,  and  preceding  them 
down  a  long  dark  passage,  ushered  them  into  a  large,  badly  furnished 
apartment,  with  a  dirty  grate,  in  which  a  small  fire  was  making  a 
wretched  attempt  to  be  cheerful,  but  was  fast  sinking  beneath  the  dis- 
piriting influence  of  the  place.  After  the  lapse  of  an  hour,  a  bit  of  lish 
and  a  steak  were  served  up  to  the  travellers,  and  when  the  dinner  was 
cleared  away  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  drew  their  chairs 
up  to  the  fire,  and  having  ordered  a  bottle  of  the  worst  possible  port 
wine,  at  the  highest  possible  price,  for  the  good  of  the  house,  drank 
brandy  and  water  for  their  own. 

Mr.  Peter  Magnus  was  naturally  of  a  very  communicative  disposi- 
tion, and  the  brandy  and  water  operated  with  >*onderful  effect  in  warm- 
ing into  life  the  deepest  hiddeu  secrets  of  his  bosom.  After  sundry 
accounts  of  himself,  his  family,  his  connexions,  his  friends,  his  jokes, 
his  business,  and  his  brothers  (most  talkative  men  have  a  great  deal  to 
say  about  their  brothers,)  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  took  a  blue  view  of  Mr. 
Pickwick  through  his  coloured  spectacles  for  several  minutes,  and  then 
said,  with  an  air  of  modesty — 

"  And  what  do  you  think — what  do  you  think,  Mr.  Pickwick — I  have 
come  down  here  for]" 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  it  is  wholly  impossible  for 
me  to  guess  :  on  business,  perhaps." 

"  Partly  right,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  "but  partly  wrong, 
at  the  same  time  :  try  again,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

"  Really,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  '•  I  must  throw  myself  on  your  mercy, 
to  tell  me  or  not,  as  you  may  think  best ;  for  I  should  never  guess,  if  I 
were  to  try  all  night." 

"  Why,  then,  he — he — he  !"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  with  a  bashful 
titter,  "  what  b*.iould  you  think,  Mr.  Pickwick,  if  I  had  come  down  here 
to  make  a  proposal,  sir,  eh  ?  he— lie — he  !" 

"  Think  1  that  you  are  very  likely  to  succeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
with  one  of  his  most  beaming  sn\iles. 

"Ah  !"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  but  do  you  really  think  so,  .Mr.  Pickwick! 
Do  you,  though  1" 

"Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  No,  but  you're  joking,  though." 

"  I  am  not,  indeed." 

"  Why,  then,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  "to  lot  you  into  a  little  secret,  I 
think  so  too.  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  Mr.  Pickwick,  although  I'm 
dreadful  jealous  by  nature — horrid — that  the  lady  is  in  this  house." 
Here  Mr.  Magtjustook  oil*  his  spectacles,  on  purpose  to  wink,  and  then 
put  them  on  again. 

'*  That's  what  you  were  running  out  of  the  room  for,  before  dinner, 
then,  so  often,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  archly. 


222  POSTHDMOTJS  PAPEKa  OT 

"  Hush — yes,  you're  right,  that  was  it ;  not  such  a  fool  as  to  see  her, 
though." 

••  No  !" 

"  No;  wouldn't  do,  you  know,  after  having  just  come  off  a  journey. 
Wait  till  to-morrow,  sir,  double  the  chance  then.  Mr.  Pickwick,  sir, 
there  is  a  suit  of  clothes  in  that  bag,  and  a  hat  in  that  box,  which  I 
expect,  in  the  effect  they  will  produce,  wiil  be  invaluable  to  me,  sir." 

*'  Indeed  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'*  Yes  ;  you  must  have  observed  my  anxiety  about  them  to-day.  I 
do  not  believe  that  such  another  suit  of  clothes,  and  such  a  hat,  could 
be  bought  for  money,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

Mr.  Pickwick  congratulated  the  fortunate  owner  of  the  irresistible 
garments,  on  their  acquisition  ;  and  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  remained  for  a 
few  moments,  apparently  abscrbed  in  contemplation. 

"She's  a  fine  creature,"'  said  Mr.  Magnus. 

"Is  she  ]"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Very,""  said  Magnus,  "  very.  She  lives  about  twenty  miles  from 
here,  Mr.  Pickwick.  I  heard  she  would  be  here  to-night  and  all  to-mor- 
row forenoon,  and  came  down  to  seize  the  opportunity.  I  think  an  inn 
is  a  good  sort  of  place  to  propose  to  a  single  woman  in,  Mr.  Pickwick. 
She  is  more  likely  to  feel  the  loneliness  of  her  situation  in  travelling, 
perhaps,  than  she  would  be  at  home.  What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick ■" 

"  I  think  it  very  probable,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  said  .Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  ''  but 
I  am  naturally  rather  curious ;  what  may  you  have  come  down  here  for  ?" 

"  On  a  far  less  pleasant  errand,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  tho 
colour  mounting  to  his  face  at  the  recollection — "  I  have  come  do\/n 
here,  sir,  to  expose  the  treachery  and  falsehood  of  an  individual,  upon 
whose  truth  and  honour  I  placed  implicit  reliance." 

"  Dear  me,"'  saii]  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  "  that's  very  unpleasant.  It  is 
a  lady,  I  presume  ?  Eh  I  ah  !  Sly,  Mr.  Pickwick,  sly.  Well,  Mr. 
Pickwick,  sir,  I  wouldn't  probe  your  feelings  for  the  world.  Painful 
subjects,  these,  sir,  very  painful.  Don't  mind  me,  Mr.  Pickwick,  if 
vou  wish  to  give  vent  to  your  feelings.  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  jilted, 
sir^,   I  have  endured  that  sort  of  thing  three  or  four  times." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  condolence  on  what  you  pre- 
sume to  be  my  melancholy  case,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  winding  up  his 
watch,  and  laying  it  on  the  table,  "  bat — "' 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Peter  .Magnus,  "  not  a  word  more  :  it's  a  painful 
subject,  I  see,  I  see.     What"s  the  time,  Mr.  Pickwick!" 

"  Past  twelve." 

"Dear  me,  it's  time  to  go'tobed.  It  will  never  do  sitting  here.  I 
shall  be  pale  to-morrow,  Mr.  Pickwick." 

At  the  bare  notion  of  such  a  calamity,  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  rang  the 
bell  for  the  chamber-maid  ;  and  the  striped  bag,  the  red  bag,  the 
leathern  hat-box,  and  the  brown  pajjcr  parcel,  having  been  conveyed  to 
his  bed-room,  he  retired  in  company  with  a  japanned  candlestick,  to 
one  side  of  the  house,  while  Mr.  Pickwick  and  another  japanned  can- 
dlestick, were  conducted  through  a  multitude  of  tortuous  windings,  to 
another. 

"  This  is  your  rooin,  sir,"  said  the  chambermaid. 
"  Ver}-  well,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round  him.     It  was  a 
tolerably  large  double-bedded  room,  with  a  lire  ;  upon  the  whole,  a 


THE  PICKWICK  CLCD.  223 

more  comfortable  looking  apartment  than  Mr.  Pickwick's  short  ex- 
perience of  the  accommodations  cf  the  Great  White  Horse  had  led  him 
to  expect. 

"Nobody  sleeps  in  the  other  bed,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Oh  no,  sir." 

"  Very  good.  Tell  my  servant  to  bring  me  up  some  hot  water  at 
half-past  eight  in  the  morning,  and  that  I  shall  not  want  him  any  more 
to-niffht." 

"Yes,  sir."'  And  bidding  Mr.  Pickwick  good-night,  the  chamber- 
maid retired,  and  left  him  alone. 

Mr.  Pickwick  sat  himself  down  in  a  chair  before  the  fire,  and  fell 
into  a  train  of  rambling  meditations.  First,  he  thought  of  his  friends, 
and  wondered  when  they  would  join  him  ;  then  his  mind  reverted  to 
Mrs.  Martha  Bardell  ;  and  from  that  lady  it  wandered,  by  a  natural 
process,  to  the  dingy  counting-house  of  Dodson  and  Fogg.  From 
Dodson  and  Fogg's  it  flew  oil  at  a  tangent  to  the  very  centre  of-  the 
history  of  the  queer  client :  and  then  it  came  back  to  the  Great  VV'hite 
Horse,  at  Ipswich,  with  sufRcient  clearness  to  convince  Mr.  Pickwick 
that  he  was  falling  asleep  ;  so  he  roused  himself,  and  began  to  undress, 
■when  he  recollected  he  had  left  his  watch  on  the  table  down  stairs. 

IVow  this  watch  w^as  a  special  favourite  with  Mr.  Pickwick,  having 
been  carried  about,  beneath  the  shadow  of  his  waistcoat,  for  a  greater 
number  of  years  than  w^e  feel  called  upon  to  state  at  present.  The 
possibility  of  going  to  sleep  unless  it  were  ticking  gently  beneath  his 
pillow,  or  in  the  watch  pocket  over  his  head,  had  never  entered  Mr. 
Pickwick's  brain.  So,  as  it  was  pretty  late  now,  and  he  was  unwilling 
to  ring  his  bell  at  that  hour  of  the  night,  he  slipped  on  his  coat,  of 
which  he  had  just  divested  himself,  and  taking  the  japanned  candle- 
stick in  his  hand,  walked  quietly  down  stairs. 

The  more  stairs  Mr.  Pickwick  went  down,  the  more  stairs  there 
seemed  to  he  to  descend ;  and  again  and  again,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  got 
into  some  narrow  passage,  and  began  to  congratulate  himself  on  hav- 
ing gained  the  ground  floor,  did  another  flight  of  stairs  appear  before 
his  astonished  eyes.  At  last  he  reached  a  stone  hall,  which  he  re- 
membered to  have  seen  when  he  entered  the  house.  Passage  after 
passage  did  he  explore  ;  room  after  room  did  he  peep  into  ;  at  length, 
just  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  giving  up  the  search  in  despair,  he 
opened  the  door  of  the  identical  room  in  which  he  had  spent  the  even- 
ing, and  beheld  his  missing  property  on  the  table. 

Mr.  Pickwick  seized  the  watch  in  triumph,  and  proceeded  to  retrace 
his  steps  to  his  bed-chamber.  If  his  progress  downward  had  been  at- 
tended with  difliiculties  and  uncertainty,  his  journey  back  was  inlinitely 
more  perplexing.  Rows  of  doors,  garnished  with  boots  of  every  shape 
make,  and  size,  branched  off  in  every  possible  direction.  A  dozen 
times  did  he  softly  turn  the  handle  of  some  bed-room  door,  which  re- 
sembled his  own,  when  a  grufl*  cry  from  within  of  •'  Who  the  devil's 
that  1"  or  "  What  do  you  want  here  ?"  caused  him  to  steal  away,  on 
tip-toe,  with  a  perfectly  marvellous  celerity.  He  was  reduced  to  the 
verge  of  despair,  when  an  open  door  attracted  his  attention.  He  peeped 
in — right  at  last.  There  were  the  two  beds  whose  situation  he  per- 
fectly remembered,  and  the  fire  still  burning.  His  candle,  not  a  long 
one  when  he  first  received  it,  had  flickered  away  in  the  draughts  of  air 
through  wlxich  he  had  passed,  and  sunk  into  the  socket  just  ae  he 


S24  POSTHOHOUS    FAPEBS    OF 

closed  the  door  after  him.  ♦'  No  matter,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick^  **I  can 
undress  myself  jast  as  well  by  the  light  of  the  fire." 

The  bedsteads  stood,  one  on  each  side  of  the  door  ;  and  on  the  in- 
ner side  of  each  was  a  little  path,  terminating  in  a  rusk-bottomed 
chair,  just  wide  enough  to  admit  of  a  person's  getting  into  or  out  of 
bed,  on  that  side,  if  he  or  she  thought  proper.  Having  carefully  drawn 
the  curtains  of  his  bed  on  the  outside,  Mr.  Pickwick  sat  down  on  the 
rush- bottomed  chair,  and  leisurely  divested  himself  of  his  shoes  and 
gaiters.  He  then  took  off  and  folded  up  his  coat,  waistcoat,  and  neck- 
cloth, and  slowly  drawing  on  his  tasselled  night-cap,  secured  it  firmly 
on  his  head,  by  tying  beneath  his  chin  the  strings  which  he  always 
had  attached  to  that  article  of  dress.  It  was  at  this  moment  that  the 
absurdity  of  his  recent  bewilderment  struck  upon  his  mind  ;  and  throw- 
ing himself  back  in  the  rush-bottomed  chair,  Mr.  Pickwick  laughed  to 
himself  so  heartily,  that  it  would  have  been  quite  delightful  to  any 
man  of  well-constituted  mind  to  have  watched  the  smiles  which  ex- 
panded his  amiable  features  as  they  shone  forth  from  beneath  the 
nightcap. 

"  It  is  the  best  idea,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  to  himself,  smiling,  till  he 
almost  cracked  the  night-cap  strings — "  It  is  the  best  idea,  my  losing 
myself  in  this  place,  and  wandering  about  those  staircases,  that  I  ever 
heard  of  Droll,  droll,  very  droll."  Here  Mr.  Pickwick  smiled  again,  a 
broader  smile  than  before,  and  was  about  to  continue  the  process  of 
undressing,  in  the  best  possible  humour,  when  he  was  suddenly  stopped 
by  a  most  unexpected  interruption ;  to  wit,  the  entrance  into  the  room 
of  some  person  with  a  candle,  who,  after  locking  the  door,  advanced  to 
the  dressing  table,  and  set  down  the  light  upon  it. 

The  smile  that  played  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  features,  was  instanta- 
neously lost  in  a  look  of  the  most  unbounded  and  wonder-stricken  sur- 
prise. The  person,  whoever  it  was,  had  come  in  so  suddenly,  and 
with  so  little  noise,  that  Mr.  Pickwick  had  had  no  time  to  call  out  or 
oppose  their  entrance.  Who  could  it  be  1  A  robber  ]  Some  evil- 
minded  person,  who  had  seen  him  come  up  stairs  with  a  handsome 
■watch  in  his  hand,  perhaps.     What  was  he  to  do  1 

The  only  way  in  which  Mr.  Pickwick  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  his 
mysterious  visiter  with  the  least  danger  of  being  seen  himself,  was,  by 
creeping  on  to  the  bed,  and  peeping  out  from  between  the  curtains  on 
the  opposite  side.  To- this  mancEUvre  he  accordingly  resorted.  Keep- 
ing the  curtains  carefully  closed  with  his  hand,  so  that  nothing  more 
of  him  could  be  seen  than  his  face  and  night-cap,  and  putting  on  his 
spectacles,  he  nmstered  up  courage,  and  looked  out. 

Mr.  Pickwick  almost  fainted  with  horror  and  dismay.  Standing 
before  the  dressing  glass,  was  a  middle-aged  lady  in  yellow  curl  papers, 
busily  engaged  hi  brushing  what  ladies  call  their  "  black  hair."  How- 
ever the  unconscious  middle-aged  lady  came  into  that  room,  it  was  quite 
clear  that  she  contemplated  remaining  there'  for  the  night ;  for  she 
had  brought  a  rushlight  and  shade  with  her,  which,  with  praiseworthy 
precaution  against  fire,  she  had  stationed  in  a  basin  on  the  floor,  where 
it  was  glimmering  away,  like  a  gigantic  light-house,  in  a  particularly 
small  piece  of  water. 

"  Bless  my  soul,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  what  a  dreadful  thing  !" 

'•  Hem  V  said  the  lady  ;  and  in  went  Mr.  Pickwick's  head,  with  auto- 
maton-like rapidity. 

"  I  never  met  with  any  thing  so  awful  as  this,"  thought  poor  Mr. 


THg  PICKWICK  CLUB.  225 

Pickwick,  the  cold  perspiration  starting  in  drops  upon  his  pight-cap. 
"Never.     This  is  fearful." 

It  was  quite  impossible  to  resist  the  urgent  desire  to  see  what  was 
going  forward.  So  out  went  Mr.  Pickwick's  head  again.  The  pros- 
pect was  worse  than  before.  The  middle-aiipd  lady  had  finished  ar- 
ranging her  hair ;  had  carefully  enveloped  it  in  a  muslin  nitjht-cap, 
with  a  small  plaited  border,  and  was  gazing  pensively  on  the  lire. 

"This  matter  is  growing  alarming," — reasoned  Mr.  Pickwick  with 
himself  "  I  can't  allow  things  to  go  on  in  this  v.ay.  By  the  self  pos- 
session of  that  lady,  it's  clear  to  me  that  I  .nust  have  come  into  the 
"wrong  room.  If  I  call  out,  she'll  alann  the  h<)use.  but  if  I  remain  here 
the  consequences  will  be  still  more  frightful." 

Mr.  Pickwick,  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  say,  was  one  of  the  most 
modest  and  delicate-minded  of  mortals.  The  very  idea  of  exhibitinrr 
his  niffhi-cap  to  a  lady,  overpowered  him,  but  he  had  tied  those  con- 
founded Strings  in  a. knot,  and  do  what  he  would,  he  couldn't  ^et  it  off. 
The  disclosure  must  be  matle.  There  was  only  one  other  way  uf  doing 
it.     lie  shrunk  behind  the  curtains,  and  called  out  very  loudly, 

"  Ha — urn." 

That  the  lady  started  at  this  unexpected  sound  was  evident,  by  hnr 
falling  up  against  the  rush-light  shade  ;  that  she  persuaded  herself  it 
must  have  been  the  effect  of  imaL'ination  was  equally  clear,  for  when 
Mr.  Pickwick,  under  the  impression  that  she  had  fainted  away  stone 
dead  from  "fright,  ventured  to  peep  out  again,  she  was  gazing  pensively 
on  the  fire  as  before. 

".Most  extraordinar)'  female  thisj"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick,  popping 
in  again.     *' Ha — um.'' 

These  last  sounds,  so  like  those  in  which,  as  legends  informs  us,  the 
ferocious  uiant  Blunderbore  was  in  the  habit  of  expressing  his  opinion 
that  ir  was  time  to  lay  the  cloth,  were  too  distinctly  audible,  to  be  again 
mistaken  for  the  workings  of  fancy. 

"  Gracious  Heaven  !"  said  the  middle-aged  lady  ;  "  what's  that !" 

"  It's — it's — only  a  gentleman,  ma'am,''  said  Mr.  Pickwick  from 
behind  the  curtains. 

"  A  gentleman  I''  said  the  lady  with  a  terrific  scream. 

"  It's  all  over,"  thought  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"A  strange  man  I"  shrieked  the  lady.  Another  instant  and  the 
house  would  be  alarmed.  Her  garments  rustled  as  she  rushed  towards 
the  door. 

"  .Ma'am" — said  Mr.  Pickwick,  thrusting  out  his  head,  in  the  ex- 
tremity of  his  desperation,  "  Ma'am." 

Now  although  Mr.  Pickwick  was  not  actuated  by  any  definite  object 
inputting  out  his  he^d,  it  was  instantaneously  productive  of  a  good 
effect.  The  lady,  as  we  have  already  stated,  was  near  the  door.  She 
must  pass  it,  to  reach  the  staircase,  and  she  would  most  undoubtedly 
have  done  so,  by  this  lim°,  had  not  the  sudden  apparition  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wicks  night-cap  driven  her  back,  into  the  remotest  corner  of  the  apart- 
ment, wher^  she  stood,  staring  wildly  at  Mr.  Pickwick,  while  -Mr. 
Pickwick,  in  his  turn,  stared  wildly  at  her. 

•'  Wretch," — said  the  lady,  covering  her  eyes  with  her  hands,  "  what 
do  you  want  here  ?" 

*'  Nothing,  ma'am — nothing  whatever,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
earnestly. 

♦•  Nothing  I"  said  the  lady,  looking  up. 


226  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

"  Nothing,  ma'am,  upon  my  honour,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  notWin;^ 
his  head  so  energetically,  that  the  tassel  of  his  night-cap  danced  again. 
"I  am  ahiiost  ready  to  sink,  ma'am,  beneath  the  confusion  of  address- 
ing a  lady  in  my  night-cap  (here  the  lady  hastily 'snatched  off  hers,) 
hut  I  can't  get  it  off,  ma'am,  (here  Mr.  Pickwick  gave  it  a  tremendous 
tug,  in  proof  of  the  statement.)  It  is  evident  to  me,  ma'am,  now,  that 
I  have  mistaken  this  bed-room  for  my  own.  I  had  not  been  here  five 
minutes,  ma'am,  when  you  suddenly  entered  it." 

"  If  this  improbable  story  be  really  true,  sir" — said  the  lady,  sobbmg 
violently,  "  you  will  leave  it  instantly." 

♦'  I  will,  ma'am,  with  the  greatest  pleasure" — replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Instantly,  sir,"  said  the  lady. 

"  Certainly,  ma'am,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick,  very  quickly.  "  Cer- 
tainly, ma'am  I— I — am  very  sorry,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
making  his  appearance  at  the  bottom  of  the  bed,  "  to  have  been  the  in- 
nocent occasion  of  this  alarm  and  emotion  ;  deeply  sorry,  ma'am." 

The  lady  pointed  to  the  door.  One  excellent  quality  of  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's characier  was  beautifully  displayed  at  this  moment,  under  the 
most  trying  circumstances.  Although  he  had  hastily  put  on  his  hat 
over  his  niijht-cap,  after  the  manner  of  the  old  patrol  ;  although  he 
carried  his  shoes  and  gaiters  in  his  hand,  and  his  coat  and  waistcoat 
over  his  arm,  nothing  could  subdue  his  native  politeness. 

'•  I  am  exceedingly  sorry,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  bowing  very  low. 

"  If  you  are,  sir,  you  will  at  once  leave  the  room,"  said  the  lady. 

"Immediately,  ma'am;  this  instant,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick 
opening  the  door,  and  dropping  both  his  shoes,  with  a  loud  crash  in  so 
doing. 

''  1  iTust,  ma'am,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  gathering  up  his  shoes, 
and  turning  round  to  bow  again.  "I  trust,  ma'am,  that  my  unble- 
mished character,  and  the  devoted  respect  I  entertain  for  your  sex,  will 
plead  as  some  slight  excuse  for  this — "  But  before  .Mr.  Pickwick  could 
conclude  his  sentence,  the  lady  had  thrust  him  into  the  passage,  and 
locked  and  bolted  the  door  behind  him. 

Whatever  grounds  of  self  congratulation  Mr.  Pickwick  might  have, 
for  having  escaped  so  quietly  from  his  late  awkward  situation,  his  pre- 
sent position  was  by  no  means  enviable.  He  was  alone,  in  an  open 
passage,  in  a  strange  house,  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  half-dressed  ; 
it  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  he  could  find  his  way  in  perfect  darkness 
to  a  room  which  he  had  been  wholly  unable  to  discover  with  a  light, 
and  if  he, made  the  slightest  noise  in  his  fruitless  attempts  to  do  so,  he 
stood  every  chance  of  being  shot  at,  and  perhaps  killed,  by  some  wake- 
ful traveller.  He  had  no  resource  but  to  remain  where  he  was,  until 
daylight  appeared.  So  after  groping  his  way  at  few  paces  down  the 
passage,  and  to  his  intinite  alarm,  stumbling  over  several  pairs  of  boots 
in  so  doing,  Mr.  Pickwick  crouched  into  a  little  recess  in  the  wall,  to 
■wait  for  morning,  as  philosophically  as  he  might. 

He  was  not  destined,  however,  to  undergo  this  additional  trial  of  pa- 
tience ;  for  he  had  not  been  long  ensconced  in  his  present  concealment 
when,  to  his  unspeakable  horror,  a  man,  bearing  a  light,  appeared  at 
the  end  of  the  passage.  His  horror  was  suddenly  converted  into  joy, 
however,  when  he  recognised  the  form  ot  his  faithful  attendant.  It  was 
indeed  Mr.  Samuel  Wellcr,  who  after  sitting  up  thus  late,  in  conversa- 
tion with  the  Boots,  who  was  sitting  up  for  the  mail,  was  now  about 
to  rc'iire  to  rest. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  227 

«  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  suddenly  appeanng  befor«  him,  "  Where's 
my  bed-room  V 

Mr,  Weller  stared  at  his  master  with  the  most  emphatic  surprise  ; 
and  it  was  not  until  the  question  had  been  repeated  three  several  times, 
that  he  turned  round,  and  led  the  way  to  the  long-sought  apartment. 

"  Sam,"  said  .Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  gut  into  bed.  "  I.have  made  one 
of  the  most  extraordinary  mistakes  to-night,  that  ever  were  heard  of." 

"  Werry  likely,  sir,"  replied  .Mr.  Weller  drily. 

"  But  of  this  i  am  determined,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  that  if 
I  were  to  stop  in  this  house  for  six  months,  I  would  never  trust  myself 
about  it  alone,  again." 

"  That's  the  werry  prudentest  resolution  as  you  could  come  to,  sir," 
replied  Mr.  Weller.  "  You  rayther  want  somebody  to  look  arler  you, 
sir,  ven  your  judgment  goes  out  a  wisitin'." 

<'  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  Sam  !"  saM  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  raised 
himself  in  bed,  and  extended  hishand,  as  if  he  were  about  to  say  some- 
thing more  ;  but  suddenly  checking  himself,  turned  round,  and  bade 
his  valet  •*  Good  night." 

•'  Good  nisht,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  He  paused  when  he  got 
outside  the  door — shook  his  head — walked  on — stopped — snuffed  the 
candle — shook  his  head  again — and  finally  proceeded  slowly  to  his 
chamber,  apparently  buried  in  the  profoundest  meditation. 


CHAPTER  XXni. 

l.V  WHICH  MR.   S.iMCEL  WELLER  ^GINS  TO  DEVOTE  HIS  ENERGIES  TO  THE 
BETCRN  MATCH  BETWEEN  HIMSELF  AND  MR.  TROTTER. 

In  a  small  room  in  the  vicinity  of  the  stable-yard,  betimes  in  the 
morning  which  was  ushered  in  by  Mr.  Pickwick's  adventure  with  the 
middle-aged  lady  in  'the  yellow  curl-papers,  sat  Mr.  Weller,  senior, 
preparing  himself  for  his  journey  to  London.  He  was  sitting  in  an 
excellent  attitude  for  having  his  portrait  taken  ;  and  here  it  is. 

It  is  very  possible  that  at  some  earlier  period  of  his  career,  Mr.  Wel- 
ler's  profile  might  have  presented  a  bold  and  determined  outline.  His 
face,  however,  had  expanded  under  the  influence  of  good  living,  and  a 
disposition  remarkable  for  resignation  ;  and  its  bold  fleshy  curs'es  had 
80  far  extended  beyond  the  limits  originally  assigned  them,  that  unless 
you  took  a  full  view  of  his  countenance  in  front,  it  was  diificult  to  dis- 
tinguish more  than  the  extreme  tip  of  a  very  rubicund  nose.  His  chin, 
from  the  same  cause,  had  acquired  the  grave  and  imposing  form  which 
is  generally  described  by  prefixing  the  word  "  double"  to  that  expres- 
sive feature,  and  his  complexion  exhibited  that  peculiarly  mottled  com- 
bination of  colours,  which  is  only  to  be  seen  in  gentlemen  of  his  pro- 
fession, and  underdone  roast  beef.  Round  his  neck  he  wore  a  crimson 
travelling  shawl,  which  merged  into  his  chin  by  such  imperceptible- 
gradations,  that  it  was  diflicult  to  distinguish  the  folds  of  the  one,  front 
the  folds  of  the  other.  Over  this  he  mounted  a  long  waistcoat  of  a  broad 
pink-striped  pattern,  and  over  that  again,  a  wide-skirted  green  coat, 
ornamented  with  large  brass  buttons,  whereof  the  two  which  garnished 


228  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS  OF 

the  waist,  were  so  far  apart,  that  no  man  had  ever  beheld  them  both  at 
the  same  time.  His  hair,  which  was  sliort,  sieek,  and  black,  was  jnst 
visible  beneath  the  capacious  brim  of  a  low-crowned  brown  hat.  His 
legs  were  encased  in  knee  cord  breeches  and  painted  top-boots  :  and  a 
copper  watch-chain  terminating  in  one  seal,  and  a  key  of  the  same 
material,  dangled  loosely  from  his  capacious  waistband. 

We  have  said  that  Mr.  Weller  was  engaged  in  preparing  for  liis 
journey  to  London — he  was  taking  sustenance,  in  fact.  On  the  table 
before  him  stood  a  pot  of  ale,  a  cold  round  oi  Iteef,  and  a  very  respecta- 
ble-looking loaf,  to  each  side  of  which  he  distributed  his  favours  in  turn, 
with  the  most  rigid  impartiality.  He  had  just  cut  a  mighty  slice  from 
the  latter,  wherj  the  footsteps  of  somebody  entering  the  room  caused 
hhn  to  raise  his  he.id  ;  and  he  beheld  his  son. 

"  Mornin',  Sammy,"  said  the  father. 

The  son  walked  up  to  the  pot  of  ale,  and  nodding  significantly  to  his 
parent,  took  a  long  draught  by  way  of  reply. 

"  VVerry  good  power  o'  suction,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  the  elder, 
looking  into  the  pot,  when  his  first-born  had  set  it  down  half  empty. 
"You'd  ha'  made  an  uncommon  fine  oyster,  Sammy,  if  you'd  been  born 
in  that  station  o'  life." 

"  Yes,  I  dcs-say  I  should  ha'  managed  to  pick  up  a  respectable 
livin',"  replied  Sam,  applying  himself  to  the  cold  beef,  with  considerable 
vigour. 

-  *'  I'm  werry  sorry,  Sarnmy,"  ^aid  the  elder  Mr.  Weller,  shaking  up 
the  ale,  by  describing  small  circles  with  the  pot,  preparatory  to  drink- 
ing. "I'm  \verr\'  sorry,  Sammy,  to  hear  from  your  lips,  as  you  let 
yourself  be  gammoned  by  that  'ere  mulberry  man.  T  always  thought, 
up  to  three  days  ago,  that  the  names  of  Veller  and  gammon  could 
never  come  into  contract,  Sammy — never." 
"  "  Always  exceptin'  the  case  of  a  widder,  of  course,"  said  Sam. 

"  Widders,  Sammy,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  slightly  changing  colour. 
«'  Widders  are  'cep'ions  fo  ev'ry  rule.  I  kave  heerd  how  many  ord'na- 
ry  women,  one  widder's  equal  to,  in  jiint  o'  comin'  over  you.  I  think 
it's  five-and-twenty,  but  I  don't  rightly  know  vether  it  ain't  more." 

"  V/ell ;  that's  pretty  well,"  said  Sam. 

"Besides,"  continued  Mr.  Weller,  not  noticing  the  interruption, 
*'  that's  a  werry  different  thing.  You  know  what  the  counsel  said, 
Sammy,  as  defended  the  gen'l'm'n  as  beat  his  Vi^ife  with  the  poker 
venever  he  got  jolly.  '  And  arter  all,  my  lord,'  says  he,  '  its  a  amiable 
weakness.'  So  I  says  respectin'  widders,  Sammy,  and  so  you'll  say, 
von  you  gets  as  old  as  I  am." 

'•  I  ought  to  ha'  know'd  better,  I  know,"  said  Sam. 

'•  Ought  to  ha'  know'd  better !''  repeated  Mr.  Weller,  striking  the 
table  with  his  fist.  "  Ought  to  ha'  know'd  better  !  why,  I  know  a 
vounor  'un  as  hasn't  had  half  nor  quarter  your  edication — as  hasn't 
slept  about  the  markets,  no,  not  six  months  ;  who'd  ha'  scorned  to  be 
Tet  in,  in  such  a  vay  ;  scorned  it,  Sammy."  In  the  excitement  of  feel- 
ing produced  by  this  agonizing  reflection,  Mr.  Weller  rang  the  bell, 
and  ordered  an  additional  pint  of  ale. 

"  Well,  it's  no  use  talkin'  about  it  now,"  said  Sam.  *'  It's  over, 
and  can't  be  helped,  and  that's  one  consolation,  as  they  alvays  says  in 
Turkey,  ven  they  cuts  the  wrong  man's  head  oflT.  It's  my  innings 
now,  gov'rnor,  and  as  soon  as  I  catches  hold  o'  this  here  Trotter,  Til 
have  a  good  'un." 


THE  nCKWICK  CLUB.  229 

'*  I  hope  you  will,  Sammy.  I  hope  you  will,"  returned  Mr.  Wellcr 
«*  Here's  your  health.  Sammy,  and  may  you  speedily  vipe  oft'  the  dis- 
grace as  you've  inflicted  on  the  family  name."  In  honour  of  this 
toast,  Mr.  Wellcr  imbibed  at  a  draught  at  least  two-thirds  of  the 
newly-arrived  pint,  and  handed  it  over  to  his  son,  to  dispose  of  the 
remainder,  which  he  instantaneously  did. 

"  And  now,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  consulting  the  large  double- 
cased  silver  watch  that  hung  at  the  end  of  the  copp-.^r  chain.  "  Now, 
it's  time  i  was  up  at  the  oftice  to  get  my  vay-bill,  and  see  the  coach 
loaded  ;  for  coaches,  Sammy,  is  like  guns — they  requires  to  he  loaded 
with  vverry  great  care  afore  they  go  off." 

At  this  parental  and  professional  joke,  Mr.  Weller,  junior,  smiled  a 
filial  smile.     His  reveKd  parent  continued  in  a  solemn  tone — 

"  I'm  a  oroin'  to  leave  you,  Samivel,  my  boy,  and  there's  no  telling 
ven  I  shall  see  you  asrain.  Your  mother-in-law  may  ha'  been  too 
much  for  me,  or  a  thousand  things  may  have  happened  by  the  timo 
you  next  hears  any  news  o'  the  celebrated  Mr.  Veller  o'  th-e  Bell 
Savage.  The  family  name  depends  werry  much  upon  you,  Samivcl, 
and  I  hope  you'll  do  wet's  right  by  it.  Upon  all  liftle  pints  o'  breedin', 
I  know  I  may  trust  you  as  veil  as  if  it  was  my  own  self  So  I've  only 
this  here  one  little  bit  of  adwice  to  give  you.  If  ever  you  gets  to  up- 
'ards  of  tifty,  and  feels  disposed  to  go  a  marryin'  any  body — no  matter 
who — ^jist  you  shut  yourself  up  in  your  own  room,  if  you've  got  one, 
and  pisoa  yourself  off-hand.  Hangin's  wuigar,  so  don't  you  have 
nothin'  to  say  to  that.  Pison  yourself,  Samivel,  my  boy,  pison  your- 
self, and  you'll  be  glad  on  it  arterwards."  With  these  affecting  words, 
Mr.  Weller  looked  steadfastly  on  his  son,  and  turning  slowly,  upon 
his  heel,  disappeared  from  his  sight. 

In  the  contemplative  mood  which  these  words  had  awakened,  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller  walked  forth  from  the  Great  White  Horse  when  his 
father  had  left  him  ;  and  bending  his  steps  towards  Saint  Clement's 
church,  endeavoured  to  dissipate  his  melancholy,  by  strolling  among  its 
ancient  precincts.  He  had  loitered  about  for  some  time,  when  he 
found  himself  in  a  retired  spot — a  kind  of  court-yard  of  venerable  ap- 
pearance— which  he  discovered  had  no  other  outlet  than  the  turning 
by  which  he  had  entered.  He  was  about  retracing  his  steps,  when 
he  was  suddenly  transfixed  to  the  spot  by  a  sudden  appearance  ;  and 
the  mode  and  manner  of  this  appearance,  we  now  proceed  to  relate. 

Pilr.  Samuel  Weller  had  been  staring  up,  at  the  old  red  brick  houses  ; 
now  and  then,  in  his  deep  abstraction,  bestowing  a  wink  upon  some 
healthy-losking  servant  girl  as  she  drew  up  a  blind,  or  threw  open  a 
bed-room  window,  when  the  green  gate  of  a  garden  at  the  bottom  of 
the  yard,  opened,  and  a  man  having  emerged  therefrom,  closed  the 
green  gate  very  carefully  after  him,  and  walked  briskly  towards  the 
very  spot  where  Mr.  Weller  was  standing. 

Now,  taking  this  as  an  isolated  fact,  unaccompanied  by  any  attendant 
circumstances,  there  was  nothing  very  extraordinary  in  it,  because  in 
many  parts  of  the  world  men  do  come  out  of  gardens,  close  green  gates 
after  them,  and  even  walk  briskly  away,  without  attracting  any  parti- 
cular share  of  public  observation.  It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  there  must 
have  been  r.omething  in  the  man,  or  in  his  manner,  or  both,  to  attract 
Mr.  WcUer's  particular  notice.  Whether  there  was,  or  not,  we  must 
leave  the  reader  to  determine,  when  we  have  faithfully  recounted  the 
behaviour  of  the  individual  in  question. 

Vol.  I.— 20 


230  P06THUM0U8  PAPERS  OF 

When  the  man  had  shut  the  green  gate  after  him,  he  walked,  as  wc 
have  said  twice  already,  with  a  linsk  pace  up  the  court-yard  ;  but  he 
no  sooner  cau^^'ht  sight  of  Mr.  Weller,  than  he  faltered,  and  stopped,  as 
if  uncertain  for  the  moment  what  course  to  adopt.  As  the  green  gate 
was  closed  behind  him,  and  there  was  no  other  outlet  but  the  one  in 
front,  however,  he  was  not  long  in  perceiving  that  he  must  pass  Mr. 
Samuel  Weller  to  get  away.  He  therefore  resumed  his  brisk  pace,  and 
advanced,  staring  straight  before  him.  The  most  extraordinary  thing 
about  the  man  was,  that  he  was  contorting  his  face  into  the  most  fear- 
ful and  astonishing  grimaces  that  ever  were  beheld.  Nature's  handi- 
work never  was  disguised  with  such  extraordinary  artificial  carving, 
as  the  man  had  overlaid  his  countenance  with,  in  one  moment. 

"Well," — said  Mr.  Weller  to  himself,  as«the  man  approached. 
"This  is  werry  odd.     I  could  ha'  swore  it  was  him." 

Up  came  the  man,  and  his  face  became  more  frightfully  distorted 
than  ever,  as  he  drew  nearer. 

"  I  could  take  my  oath  to  that  'ere  black  hair,  and  mulberry  suit,'* 
said  Mr.  Weller  ;   "  only  I  never  see  such  a  face  as  that,  afore." 

As  Mr.  Weller  said  this,  the  man's  features  assumed  an  unearthly 
twinge,  perfectly  hideous.  He  was  obliged  to  pass  very  near  Sam, 
however,  and  the  scrutinizing  glance  of  that  gentleman  enabled  him 
to  detect,  under  all  these  appalling  twists  of  feature,  something  too  like 
the  small  eyes  of  Mr.  Job  Trotter,  to  be  easily  mistaken. 

"Hallo,  you  sir,"  shouted  Sam,  fiercely. 

The  stranger  stopped. 

"  Hallo,"  repeated  Sam,  still  more  gruffly. 

The  man  with  the  horrible  face,  looked,  with  the  greatest  surprise, 
up  the  court,  and  down  the  court,  and  in  at  the  windows  of  the  houses 
— every  where  but  at  Sam  Weller — and  took  another  step  forward, 
when  he  was  brought  to  again,  by  another  shout; 

"  Hallo,  you  sir" — said  Sam,  for  the  third  time. 

There  was  no  pretending  to  mistake  where  the  voice  came  from 
now,  so  the  stranger,  having  no  other  resource,  at  last  looked  Sam 
Weller  full  in  the  face. 

♦♦  It  won't  do,  Job  Trotter,"  said  Sam.  "  Come,  none  o'  that  'ere 
nonsense.  You  ain't  so  werry  'ansome  that  you  can  afford  to  throw 
avay  many  o'  your  good  looks.  Bring  them  'ere  eyes  o'  your'n  back 
into  their  proper  places,  or  I'll  knock  'em  out  of  your  head.  D'ye 
hearV 

As  Mr.  Weller  appeared  ftilly  disposed  to  act  up  to  the  spirit  of  this 
address,  Mr.  Trotter  gradually  allowed  his  face  to  resume  its  natural 
expression ;  and  then  giving  a  start  of  joy,  exclaimed,  "  What  do  I 
aeel     Mr.  Walker  1" 

"  Ah,"  replied  Sam — "  You're  werry  glad  to  see  me,  ain't  youl" 

"  Glad  !"  exclaimed  Job  Trotter — "Oh,  Mr.  Walker,  ifyou  had  but 
known  how  I  have  looked  forward  to  this  meeting !  It  is  too  much, 
Mr.  Walker;  I  cannot  bear  it,  indeed  I  cannot."  And  with  these 
words,  Mr.  Trotter  burst  into  a  regular  inundation  of  tears,  and  fling- 
ing his  arms  round  those  of  Mr.  Weller,  embraced  him  closely  in  an 
ecstasy  of  joy. 

"  Get  off,"  cried  Sam,  highly  indignant  at  this  process,  and  vainly 
endeavouring  to  extricate  himself  from  the  grasp  of  his  enthusiastic 
acquaintance — "  Get  off,  I  tell  you.  What  arc  you  crying  over  me  for, 
you  portable  inginel" 


THE    nCKWICK    CLUB.  231 

"Because  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  replied  Job  Trotter,  »Trndually 
releasing  Mr.  Weller,  as  the  first  symptoms  of  his  pugnacity  dis- 
appeared.    "  Oh,  Mr.  Walker,  this  is  too  much." 

"  Too  much !"  echoed  Sara.  "  I  think  it  is  too  much — rayther. 
Now  what  have  you  got  to  say  to  me  eh  !" 

Mr.  Trotter  made  no  reply  ;  for  the  little  pink  pocket  handkerchief 
was  in  full  force. 

"  What  have  you  got  to  say  to  me,  afore  I  knock  your  head  off!" 
repeated  Mr.  Weller,  in  a  threatening  manner. 

"  Eh  !"  said  Mr.  Trotter,  with  a  look  of  virtuous  surprise. 
"  What  have  you  got  to  say  to  me  1" 
"  I,  Mr.  Walker  !" 

"Don't  call  me  Valker  ;  my  name's  Veller;  you  know  that  veil 
enouirh.     What  have  you  got  to 'say  to  me  V 

'•  Bless  you,  Mr.  Walker — Weller  I  mean — a  great  many  thino-s,  if 
you  will  come  away  somewhere,  where  we  can  talk  comfortably.     If 
you  knew  how  I  h.ive  looked  for  you,  Mr.  Weller — " 
"  Werry  hard,  indeed,  I  s'pose  !"  said  Sam,  drily. 
"  Very,  very,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Trotter,  wiihout  moving  a  muscle  of 
his  face.     "But  shake  hands,  Mr.  Weller  " 

Sam  eyed  his  companion  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then,  as  if  actuated 
by  a  sudden  impulse,  complied  with  his  request. 

"  How,"-  said  Job  Trotter,  as  they  walked  away — "  How  is  your  dear, 
good  master  !  Oh,  he  is  a  worthy  gentleman,  Mr.  Weller.  I  hope 
he  didn't  catch  cold,  that  dreadful  ni^ht,  sir.'' 

There  was  a  momentary  look  of  deep  slyness  in  Job  Trotter's  eye, 
as  he  said  this,  which  ran  a  thrill  through  .Mr.  Weller's  clenched  fist 
as  he  burnt  with  a  desire  to  make  a  demonstration  on  his  ribs  Sam 
constrained  himself,  however,  and  replied  that  his  master  was  ex- 
tremely well. 

'•  Oh,  I  am  so  glad."  replied  Mr.  Trotter,  "  is  he  here  !" 
'•  Is  your'n  !"  asked  Sam,  by  way  of  reply. 

•'  Oh,  yes,  he  is  here,  and  I  grieve  to  say,  Mr.  W^eller,  he  is  going  on 
worse  than  ever. 

"  Ah,  ah?"  said  Sam. 
"Oh,  shocking — terrible." 
"At  a  boarding-school  ]''  said  Sam. 

"  No,  not  at  a  boarding  school,'"  replied  Job  Trotter,  with  the  same 
sly  look  which  Sam  had  noticed  before — "  Not  at  a  boarding-school." 

"  At  the  house  with  the  green. gate  !"  inquired  Sam,  eying  his  com- 
panion closely. 

"  No,  no — oh,  not  there,"  replied  Job  ;  with  a  quickness  very  unu- 
sual to  him,  "  not  there." 

"  What  was  you  a  doin'  there  T'  asked  Sam,  with  a  sharp  glance — 
"Got  inside  the  gate  by  accident,  perhaps." 

"  W^hy,  Mr.  Weller,  "  replied  Job,  "  I  don't  mind  telling  you  my  little 
secrets,  because  you  know  we  took  such  a  fancy  for  each  other  when 
we  first  met.     You  recollect  how  plea.sant  we  wore  that  mornintT?" 
"  Oh  yes,"  said  Sam.  impaMently — "  I  remember.     Well." 
"Well,"  replied  Job,  speaking  with   frreat  precision,  and  in  the  low 
tone  of  a  man  who  comniuriicates  an  important  secret—"  In  that  house 
with  the  green  gate,  Mr.  Weller,  they  k«'fp  a  good  many  servants." 
"  So  I  should  think,  from  the  look  on  it,"  intorpo.sed  -lam. 
"Yes,"  continued  Mr.  Trotter,  "  and  one  of  them  is  a  cook,  who 


232  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OT 

has  saved  up  a  little  money,  Mr.  Weller,  and  is  desirous,  if  she  can 
ebtablish  herself  in  life,  to  opeaa  little  shop  in  the  chandlery  way,  you 
see." 

"Yes." 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Weller.  WelJ,  sir,  I  rnet  her  at  a  chapel  that  I  go  to — 
a  very  neat  little  chapel  in  this  town,  Mr.  Weller,  where  they  sing  the 
number  four  coileclion  of  hymns,  which  I  generally  carry  about  with 
me,  in  a  little  book,  whiich  you  may  perhaps  have  seen  in  my  hand= — 
and  I  got  a  little  intimate  with  her,  Mr.  Weller,  and  from  that  an  ac- 
quaintance sprung  up  between  us  ;  and  I  may  venture  to  say,  Mr.  Wel- 
ler, that  I  am  to  be  ihe  chandler." 

"  Ah,  and  a  werry  amiable  chandler  you'll  make,**  replied  S-am,  eying 
Job  with  a  side  look  of  intense  dislike 

"  The  irreat  advantage  of  this,  Mr.  Weller,"  continued  Job,  his  eyes 
filling  with  tears  as  he  spoke,  "  will  be,  that  I  shall  be  able  to  leave  my 
present  disgraceful  service  with  that  bad  man,  and  to  devote  myself  to 
a  belter  and  more  virtuous  life — more  like  the  way  in  whicii  1  v^as 
brought  up,  Mr.  Weller." 

"  You  must  ha'  been  werry  nicely  brought  up,"  said  Sam. 

*'  Oh,  vory,  Mr.  Weller,  very,"  replied  Job;  and  at  the  recollection 
of  the  purity  of  his  youthful  days,  Mr.  Trotter  pulled  forth  the  pink 
handkerchief,  and  wept  copiously. 

,  "  You  must  ha'  been  an  uncommon  nice  boy,  to  go  to  school  vith," 
said.  Sam. 

"  I  was,  sir,"  replied  Job,  heaving  a  deep  sigh.  *'  I  was  the  idol  of 
the  place." 

"  Ah,"  said  Sam,  "  I  don't  wonder  at  it.  What  a  comfort  you  must 
ha'  been  to  your  blessed  mother  !" 

At  these  words,  Mr.  Job  Trotter  inserted  an  end  of  the  pink  hand- 
kerchief into  the  corner  of  each  eye,  one  after  the  other,  and  began  to 
weep  copiously. 

*'  Vhat's  the  matter  vith  the  man,"  said  Sam  indignantly.  '•  Chel- 
Rea  waterworks  is  nothin'  to  you.  What  are  you  melting  vith  now — 
the  consciousness  o'  willany  1" 

"  I  cannot  keep  my  feelings  down,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Job,  after  a 
sliort  pause.  '•  To  think  that  my  master  should  have  suspected  the 
conversation  I  had  with  yours,  and  so  dragged  me  away  in  a  post- 
chaise,  and  after  persuadiug  the  sweet  young  lady  to  say  she  knew 
nothing  of  him,  and  bribing  the  school-mistress  to  do  the  same,  deserted 
her  for  a  better  speculation,— oh  !     Mr.  Weller,  it  makes  me  shudder." 

*'  Oh,  that  was  the  vay,  was  it?"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  To  be  sure  it  was,"  replied  Job. 

"  Veil,"  said  Sam,  as  they  had  now  arrived  near  the  hotel,  "  I  vant 
to  have  a  little  bit  o*  talk  with  you.  Job ;  so  if  you're  not  partickler 
engaged,  I  should  like  to  see  you  at  the  Great  "M^hite  Horse  to-night, 
$omewheres  about  eight  o'clock." 

"  I  shall,  be  sure  to  come,"  said  Job. 

"  Yes,  you'd  better,"  replied  Sam,  with  a  very  meaning  lopk,  "  oi 
else  I  shall  perhaps  be  askin'  arter  you,  at  the  other  side  of  the  green 
gate,  and  then  I  might  cut  you  out,  you  know." 

"I  shall  be  sure  to.be  with  you,"  said  Mr.  Trotter;  and  wringing 
Sam's  hand  with  the  utmast  fervour,  he  walked  away. 

''Take  care,  Job  Trotter,  take  care,"  said  Sam,  looking  after  him, 
<'  or  I  shall  be  one  too  many  for  you  this  time,  I  shall  Indeed."     Having 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB 


233 


Uttered  this  soliloquy,  and  looked  after  Job  till  he  was  to  be  seen  no 
more,  Mr.  Weller  made  the  best  of  his  way  to  his  master's  bed-room. 

''It's  all  in  training,  sir,"  said  Sam. 

*'  What's  in  training,  Sam?"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

•'  I  have  found  'em  out,  sir,"  said  Sam. 

"Found  out  who !" 

'*  That  'ere  queer  customer,  and  the  melan-cholly  chan  with  the 
black  hair." 

"  Impossible,  Sam  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  the  greatest  energy — 
"Where  are  they,  Sam  ;  where  are  they  ]" 

"Hush,  hush!"  replied  Mr.  Wetler  ;  and  as  he  assisted  Mr.  Pick- 
wick to  dress,  he  detailed  the  plan  of  action  on  which  he  proposed  to 
enter. 

"  But  when  is  this  to  be  done,  Sam  V  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"All  in  good  time,  sir,"  replied  Sam. 

Whether  it  was  done  in  good  time,  or  not,  will  be  seen  hereafter. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

WHEREIN  MR.  P«TER  MAGNUS  GROWS  JE.A.L0US,  AND  THE  MIDDLE-AGED 
LADY  APPREHENSIVE,  WHICH  BRINGS  THE  PICKWICKlANS  WITHIN  THE 
GRASP  OF     THE    LAW. 

When  Mr.  Pickwick  descended  to  the  room  in  which  he  and  Mr. 
Peter  Magnus  had  spent  the  preceding  evening,  he  found  that  gt.ntle- 
man  with  the  major  part  of  the  contents  of  the  two  bags,  the  leathern 
hat-bo.K,  and  the  broWn  paper  parcel,  displayed  to  ail  possible  advan- 
tage on  his  person,  while  he  himself  was  pacing  up  and  down  the 
room  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  excitement  and  agitation. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus.  "  What  d»  you 
think  of  this,  sir?" 

"  Very  effective  indeed,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  surveying  the  gar- 
ments of  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  with  a  good-natured  smile. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it'll  do,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  "  Mr.  Pickwick,  sir^  I 
have  sent  up  my  card." 

"H^-veyou?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*•  Yes  ;  and  the  waiter  brought  back  word  that  she  would  see  me  at 
eleven — at  eleven,  sir  ;  it  only  wants ^^  quarter  now." 

"  Very  near  the  time,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Yes,  it  is  rather  near,"  replied  Mr.  Magnus,  rather  too  near  to  be 
pleasant — eh!   Mr.  Pickwick,  sir  ?" 

"  Confidence  is  a  great  thing  in  these  cases,''  observed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  believe  it  is,  sir,''  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus.  "  I  am  very  confident, 
sir.  Really,  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  do  not  see  why  a  man  should  f^el  any 
fear  in  such  a  case  as  this,  sir.  What  is  it,  sir?  There's  nothing  to 
be  ashamed  of;  it's  a  matter  of  mutual  accommodation,  nothing  more. 
Husband  on  one  side,  wife  on  the  other.  That's  my  view  of  the  mat- 
ter, Mr.  Pickwick." 

"  It  is  a  very  philosophical  one,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  •'  But 
breakfast  is  waiting,  Mr.  Magnus.     Come." 

20* 


934  pOBTiiuMoufl  PAPERS  or 

Down  they  sat  to  breakfast ;  but  it  was  evident,  notwithstanding  th«i 
boasting  of  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  that  he  laboured  under  a  very  consider- 
able degree  of  nervousness,  of  which  loss  of  appetite,  a  propensity  to 
upset  the  tea-things,  a  spectral  attempt  at  drollery,  and  an  irresistible 
inclination  to  look  at  the  clock  every  other  second,  were  among  the  prin- 
cipal symptoms. 

a  He he— he,"  tittered  Mr.  Magnus,  affecting,  cheerfulness,  and 

gasping  with  agitation.     "  It  only  wants  two  minutes,  Mr.  Pickwick. 
A:n  I  pale,  sir  T' 

"  Not  very,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick, 
There  was  a  brief  pause. 

"  r  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pickwick;  but  have  you  ever  done  this  sort 
of  thing  in  your  time  1"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 
''  You  mean  proposing  ?'  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 
'•Yes." 

"  Never,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with.great  energy,  "  never." 
"  You  have  no  idea,  then,  how  it's  best  to  begin  1"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 
«  Why,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  may  have  formed  some  ideas  uppn 
the  subject,  but  as  I  have  never  submitted  them  to  the  test  of  experi- 
ence, I  should  be  sorry  if  you  were  induced  to  regulate  your  proceed- 
ings by  them." 

"  I  should  feel  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  any  advice,  sir,"  said 
Mr.  Magnus,  taking  another  look  at  the  clock,  the  hand  of  which  was 
verging  on  the  five  minutes  past. 

♦"Well-  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,,  with  the  profound  solemnity  with 
which  that  great  man  could,  when  he  pleased,  render  his  remarks  so 
deeply  impressive — "  I  should  commence,  sir,  with  a  tribute  to  the 
lady's  beauty  and  excellent  qualities-;  from  them,  sir,  1  should  diverge 
to  my  own  unworthiness." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 

''Unworthiness  for  her  only,  mind,  sir,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick; 
"  for  to  shilw  that  I  was  not  wholly  unworthy,  sir,  I  should  take  a 
brief  review  of  my  past  life,  and  present  condition.  I  should  argue 
by  analog)-,  that  to  any  body  else,  I  must  be  a  very  desirable  object. 
I  should  then  expiate  on  the  warmth  of  my  love,  and  the  depth  of  my 
devotion.     Perhaps  I  might  then  be  tempted  to  seize  her  hand." 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Magnus  :  "  that  would  be  a  very  great  point." 
«'  1  should  then,  sir,"  continued  Mr.  Pickwick,  growing  warmer  as 
the  subject  presented  itself  in  more  glowing  colours  before  him — "  I 
should  then,  sir,  come  to  the  plain  and  simple  question,  '  Will  you 
have  me]'  I  think  I  am  justified  in  assuming,  that  upon  this  she 
would  turn  away  her  head." 

"You  think  that  may  be  taken  for  granted  1"  said  Mr.  Magrus  ; 
*'  because,  if  she  did  not  do  that  at  the  right  place,  it  would  be  em- 
barrassing." 

"  I  think  she  would,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Upon  this,  sir,  I  should 
squeeze  her  hand,  and  I  think —  I  fhink,  Mr.  Magnus — that  after  I  had 
done  that,  supposing  there  was  no  refusal,  I  should  gently  draw  away 
the  handkerchief,  w"hich  my  shght  knowledge  of  human  nature  leads 
me  to  suppose  tho  lady  would  be  applying  to  her  eyes  at  the  moment, 
and  steal  a  respectful  kiss.  I  think  I  should  kiss  her,  Mr.  Magnus  ; 
at  this  particular  point,  I  am  decidedly  of  opinion  that  if  the  lady  were 
going  to  take  me  at  all,  she  would  murmur  into  my  ears  a  bashful 
acceptance." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  235 

Mr.  Magnus  started  :  gazed  on  Mr.  Pickwick's  intellicrent  face  for 
a  short  time  in  silence,  and  then  (the  dial  pointing  to  the  ten  minutes 
past)  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  rushed  desperately  from  the 
room. 

Mr.  Pickwiek  bad  taken  a  few  strides  to-  and  fro  ;  and  the  small 
hand  of  the  clock  following  the  latter  part  of  his  exampl; ,  had  arrived 
at  the  figure  which  indicates  the  half  hour,  when  the  door  suddenly 
opened.  He  turned  round  to  greet  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  and  encounter- 
ed in  his  stead  the  joyous  face  of  Mr.  Tupman,  the  serene  countenance 
of  Mr.  Winkle,  and  the  intellectual  lineaments  of  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

As  Mr.  Pickwick  greeted  them,  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  tripped  into 
the  room. 

"  My  friends,  the  gentleman  I  was  speaking  of,  Mr.  Magnus/'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"■  Your  servant,  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  evidently  in  a  higb 
state  of  excitement ;  "  Mr.  Pickwick,  allow  me  to  speak  to  you  one 
moment,  sir.". 

As  he  said  this,  Mr.  Magnus  harnessed  his  forefinger  to  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's button  hole,  and  drawing  him  into  a  window  recess,  said — 

"  Congratulate  me,  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  I  followed  your  advice  to  the 
very  letter." 

"And  it  was  all  correct,  was  iti"  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  It  was,  sir — could  not  possibly  have  been  better,"  replied  Mr.  Mdg- 
nus  ;  "  Mr.  Pickwick,  she  is  mine." 

*'  I  congratulate  you,  with  all  my  heart,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwi  ;k, 
warmly  shaking  his  new  friend  by  the  hand. 

"You  must  see  her,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Magnus;  "this  way,  if  you 
please.  Excuse  us  for  one  instant,  gentlemen."  And  hurrying  on  in 
this  way,  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  drew  Mr.  Pickwick  from  the  room.  He 
paused  at  the  next  door  in  the  passage,  and  tapped  gently  thereat. 

"  Come-  in,"  said  a  female  voice.     And  in  they  went. 

"Miss  Witherfield,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  '^allow  me  to  introduce  my 
very  particular  friend,  Mr.  Pickwick.  Mr.  Pickwick,  I  beg  to  piake 
you  knawn  to  Miss  Witherfield." 

The  lady  was  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room,  and  as  Mr.  Pickwick 
bowed,  he  took  his  spectacles  from  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  put  them 
on,  a  process  which  he  had  no  sooner  gone  through,  than,  uttering  aa 
e.vclamation  of  surprise,  Mr.  Pickwick  retreated  several  paces,  and  the 
lady  with  a  half-suppressed  scream,,  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and 
dropped  into  a  chair;  whereupon  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  was  struck  mo- 
tionless on  the  spot,  and  gazed  from  one  to  the  other,  with  a  counte- 
nance expressive  of  the  extremities  of  horror  and  surprise. 

This  certainly  was,  to  all  appearance,  very  unaccountable  behaviour  ; 
but  the  fact  was,  tliat  Mr.  Pickwick  no  sooner  put  on  his  spectacles, 
than  he  at  once  recognised  in  the  future  Mrs.  Magnus  the  lady  into 
wlio.'ie  room  he  had  so  unwarrantably  intruded  on  the  previous  night ; 
and  the  spectacles  had  no  sooner  crossed  Mr.  Pickwick's  nose,  than  the 
lady  at  once  identified  the  countenance  which  she  had  seen  surrounded 
by  all  the  horrors  of  a  night-cap.  »So  the  lady  screamed,  and  Mr.  Pick- 
wick started. 

"Mr.  Pickwick  I"  exclaimed  Mr.  Magnus,  lost  in  astonishment, 
"What  is  the  meaning  oflhis.  sir?  What  is  the  meaning  of  it,  sir]'* 
added  Mr.  Magnus  in  a  threatening  and  a  louder  tone. 

"  Six,'*  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  somewhat  indignant  at  the  very  sudden 


330  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS  OP 

manner  in  which  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  had  conjugated  himself  into  the 
imperative  mood,  "  I  decline  answering  that  question." 

*'  Vou  decline  it,  sir  ?"  said  Mr.  Magnus. 

"  I  do,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  I  object  to  say  any  thing  which 
may  compromise  that  lady,  or  awaken  unpleasant  recollections  in  her 
breast,  without  her  consent  and  permission." 

"  Miss  Witherfield,"  said  Mr.  Peter  Magnus,  "  do  you  know  this 
person  ?" 

"  Know  him  !"  repeated  the  middle-aged  lady,  hesitating. 

"  Yes,  know  him,  ma'am,  I  said  know  him,"  replied  Mr.  Magnus, 
with  ferocity. 

"  I  have  seen  him,"  replied  the  middle-aged  lady. 

*•  Where  T'  inquired  Mr.  Magnus,  *'  Where  1" 

*'  That,"  said  the  middle-aged  lady,  rising  from  her  seat,  and  averting' 
her  head,  *'  that  I  would  not  reveal  for  worlds." 

"  I  understand  you,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  and  respect  your 
delicacy  ;  it  shall  never  be  revealed  by  me,  depend  upon  it." 

*'  Upon  ray  word,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Magnus,  *'  considering  the  situ- 
ation in  which  I  am  placed  with  regard  to  yourself,  you  carry  this  mat- 
ter off  with  tolerable  coolness — tolerable  coolness,  ma'am." 

"Cruel  Mr.  Magnus,"  said  the  middle-aged  lady,  and  here  she  wept 
very  copiously  indeed. 

"  Address  your  observations  to  me,  sir,"  interposed  Mr.  Pickwick  ; 
"  I  alone  am  to  blame,  if  anybody  be." 

"Oh!  you  alone  are  to  blame,  are  you,  sir?"  said  Mr.  Magnus; 
*•  I — I — sec  through  this,  sir.  You  repent  of  your  determination  now, 
do  you  ?" 

"  My  determination  !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Your  determination,  sir.  Oh  !  don't  stare  at  me,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Magnus  ;  "  I  recolliect  your  words  last  night,  sir.  You  came  down 
here,  sir,  to  expose  the  treachery  and  falsehood  of  an  individual  on 
whose  truth  and  honour  you  had  placed  implicit  reliance — eh  1"  Here 
Mr.  Peter  Magnus  indulged  in  a  prolonged  sneer  :  and  taking  off  his 
green  spectacles — which  he  probably  found  superfluous  in  his  fit  of 
jealousy — rolled  his  little  eyes  about  in  a  manner  which  was  frightful 
to  behold. 

"  Ell  ?■'  said  Mr.  Magnus  ;  and  then  he  repeated  the  sneer  with  in- 
creased effect.     "  But  you  shall  answer  it,  sir." 

"  Answer  what  V  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Never  mind,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Magnus,  striding  up  and  down  the 
room — "  Never  mind".'' 

There  must  be  something  very  comprehensive  in  this  phrase  of 
"  Never  mind,"  for  we  do  not  recollect  to  have  ever  witnessed  a  quarrel 
in  the  street,  at  the  theatre,  public  room,  or  elsewhere,  in  which  it  has 
not  been  the  standard  reply  to  all  belligerent  inquiries,  "  Do  you  call 
yourself  a  gentleman,  sir]" — "  Never  mind,  sir."  "  Did  I  offer  to  say 
any  thing  to  the  young  woman,  sirl" — "  Never  mind,  sir."  "  Do  you 
want  your  head  knocked  up  against  that  wall,  sir?" — "Never  mind, 
sir."  It  is  observable,  too,  that  there  woukl  appear  to  be  some  hidden 
taunt  in  this  universal  "  Never  mind,"  which  rouses  more  indignation 
in  the  bosom  of  the  individual  addressed,  than  the  most  lavish  abuse 
could  possibly  awaken. 

We  do  not  mean  to  assert  that  the  application  of  this  brevity  to  him- 
fc'elf  struck  exactly  that  indignation  to  Mr.  Pickwick's  soul  which  it 


THE.  PICKWICK  CLUB  L37 

would  infallibly  have  roused  in  a  vulgar  breast.  We  merely  record  the 
fact  that  Mr.  JPickwick  opened  the  room  door,  and  abruptly  called  out 
"  1  upman,  come  here." 

Mr.  Tupman  immediately  presented  himself,  with  a  look  of  very 
considerable  surprise. 

"  Tupman,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  a  secret  of  some  delicacy  in  which 
that  lady  is  concerned,  is  the  cause  of  a  diflerence  which  has  just  arisen 
between  this  gentleman  and  myself  When  I  assure  him,  in  your  pre- 
sence, that  it  has  no  relation  to  himself,  and  is  not  in  any  way  con- 
nected with  his  affairs,  I  need  hardly  beg  you  to  take  notice  that  if 
he  continues  to  dispute  it,  he  expresses  a  doubt  of  my  veracily,  which 
I  shall  consider  extremely  insulting."  As  Mr.  Pickwick  said  this,  he 
looked  encyclopaedias  at  Mr.  Peter  Magnus. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  upright  and  honourable  bearing,  coupled  with  that 
force  and  energy  of  speech  which  so  eminently  distinguished  him,  would 
have  carried  conviction  to  any  reasonable  mind  ;  but  unfortunately  at 
that  particular  moment,  the  mind  of  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  was  in  any 
thing  but  reasonable  order.  .Consequently,  instead  of  receiving  Mr. 
Pickwick's  explanation  as  he  ought  to  have  done,  he  forthwith  pro- 
ceeded to  work  himself  into  a  red-hot,  scorching,  consuming  passion, 
and  to  talk  about  what  was  due  to  his  own  feelings,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  adding  6)rce  to  his  declamation  by  striding  to  and  fro,  and  pull- 
ing his  hair,  amusements  which  he  would  vary  occasionally  by  shaiting 
his  fist  in  .Mr.  Pickwick's  philanthropic  countenance. 

Mr.  Pickwick,  in  his  turn,  conscious  of  his  own  innocence  and  rec- 
titude, and  irritated  by  having  unfortunately  involved  the  middle-aged 
lady  in  such  an  unpleasant  affair,  was  not  so  quietly  .Usposjed  as  was 
bis  wont.  The  consequence  was,  that  words  ran  high,  and  voices 
higher,  and  at  length  Mr.  Magnus  told  Mr.  Pickwick  he  should  hear 
from  him,  to  which  Mr.  Pickwick  replied  with  laudable  politeness,  that 
the  sooner  he  heard  from  him  the  better  ;  whereupon  the  middle-aged 
lady  rushed  in  terror  from  the  room,  out  of  which  Mr.  Ttfpman  dragged 
Mr.  Pickwick,  leaving  Mr.  Peter  Magnus  to  himself  and  meditation. 

If  the  middle-aged  lady  had  mingled  much  with  the  busy  world,  or 
profited  at  all  by  the  manners  and  customs  of  those  who  make  the 
laws  and  set  the  fashions,  she  weuld  have  known  that  this  sort  of 
•ferocity  is  just  the  most  harmless  thing  in  nature  :  but  as  she  had  lived 
for  the  most  part  in  the  country,  and  never  read  the  parliamentary 
debates,  she  was  little  versed  in  these  particular  refinements  of  civilized 
life.  Accordingly,  when  she  had  gained  her  bed-chamber,  bolted 
herself  in,  and  begun  to  meditate  on  the  scene  she  had  just  witnessed, 
the  most  terrific  pictures  of  slaughter  and  destruction  presented  them- 
selves to  her  imagination  ;  among  which  a  full  length  portrait  of  Mr. 
Peter  Magnus  borne  home  by  four  men,  with  the  embellishment  of  a 
whole  barrel-full  of  bullets  in  his  left  side,  was  among  the  very  least. 
The  more  the  middle-aged  lady  meditated,  the  more  terrified  she  became ; 
and  at  length  she  determined  to  repair  to  the  house  of  the  principal 
magistrate  of  the  town,  and  request  him  to  gecure  the  persons  of  Mr. 
Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman,  without  delay. 

To  this  decision,  the  middle-aged-  lady  was  impelled  by  a  variety  of 
considerations,  the  chief  of  which  was,  the  incontestable  proof  it  would 
afford  of  her  devotion  to  Mr.  P<  tcr  Magnus,  and  her  anxiety  tor  his 
(Safety.  ^She  was  too  well  acquainted  with  his  jealous  temperament  to 
venture  the  slightest  allusion  to  the  real  cause  of  liis  agitation  on 


239  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

beholdinor  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  and  she  trusted  to  her  own  influence  and 
power  of  persuasion  with  the  little  man,  to  quell  his  boisterous  jealousy, 
Bupposina  that  Mr.  Pickwick  were  remove^d,  and  no  fresh  quarrel  could 
arise.  Filled  with  these  reflections,  the  middle-aged  lady  arrayed  her- 
self in  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  prepared  to  the  mayor's  dwelling 
straightway. 

Now  George  Nupkins,  Esquire,  the  principal  magistrate  aforesaid, 
was  about  as  grand  a  personage  as  the  fastest  walker  would  find  out, 
between  sunrise  and  sunset,  on  the  twenty-first  of  June,  which  being, 
according  to  the  aln^anacs,  the  longest  day  in  the  whole  year,  would 
naturally  afford  him  the  longest  period  for  his  search.  On  this  par- 
ticular morning,  Mr.  Nupkins  was  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  excitement 
and  irritation,  for  there  had  been  a  rebellion  in  the  town  ;  all  the  day- 
scholars  at  the  largest  day-school,  had  conspired  to  break  the  windows 
of  an  obnoxious  apple-seller,  and  had  hooted  the  beadle,  and  pelted  the 
constabulary — an  elderly  gentleman  in  top-hoots,  who  had  been  called 
on  to  repress  the  tumult  ;  and  had  been  a  peace-officer,  man  and  boy, 
for  half  a  century  at  least.  And  Mr.  Nupkins  was  sitting  in  his  easy 
chair,  frowning  with  majesty  and  boiling  with  rage,  when  a  lady  was 
announced  on  pressing,  private,  and  particular  business.  Mr.  Nup- 
kins looked  calmly  terrible,  and  commanded  that  the  lady  should  be 
shown  in,  which  command,  like  all  the  mandates  of  emperors,  and 
magistrates,  and  other  great  potentates  of  the  earth,  was  forthwith 
obeyed  ;  and  Miss  Witherfield,  interestingly  agitated,  was  ushered  in 
accordingly. 

*'  Muzzle,"   said  the  magistrate. 

Muzzle  was  an  under-sized  footman,  with  a  long  body  and  short  legs. 

*'  Muzzle." 

"  Yes,  your  worehip." 

"  Place  a  chair  and  leave  the  room." 

*'  Yes,  your  worship." 

*'Now,  ma'am,  will  you  state  jrour  business  1"  said  the  magistrate. 

"  It  is  of  a  very  painful  kind,  sir,"  said  Miss  Witherfield. 

♦'Very  likely,  ma'am,"  said  the  magistrate.  "Compose  your  feel- 
ings, ma'am."  Here  Mr.  Nupkins  looked  benignant.  "  And  then  tell 
me  what  legal  business  brings  you  here,  ma'am."  Here  the  magistrate 
triumphed  over  the  man  :  and  he  looked  stern  again. 

"  It  is  very  distressing  to  me,  sir,  to  give  this  information,"  said  Miss 
Witherfield  ;   ''  but  I  fear  a  duel  is  going  to  be  fought  here." 

"Here,  ma"am,"  said  the  magistrate.     "  Where,  ma'am  1" 

"  In  Ipswich." 

"  In  Ipswich,  ma'am — a  duel  in  Ipswich,"  said  the  magistrate,  per- 
fectly aghast  at  the  notion.  "  Impossible,  ma'am  :  nothing  of  the  kind 
can  be  contemplated  in  this  town,  I  am  persuaded.  Bless  my  soul, 
ma'am  ;  are  you  aware  of  the  activity  of  our  local  magistracy  ]  Do  you 
happen  to  have  heard,  ma'am,  that  I  rushed  into  a  prize-ring  on  the 
fourth  of  May  last,  attended  by  only  sixty  special  constables  ;  and,  at 
the  hazard  of  falling  a  sacrifice  to  the  angry  passions  of  an  infuriated 
multitude,  prohibited  a  pugilistic  contest  between  the  Middlesex  Dump- 
ling and  the  Suffolk  Bantam  ]  A  duel  in  Ipswich,  ma'am  !  I  don't 
think — I  do  not  think,"  said  the  magistrate,  reasoning  with  himself, 
"  that  any  two  men  can  have  had  the  hardihood  to  plan  such  a  breach 
of  the  peace,  in  this  town." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  239 

<*My  information  is,  unfortunately,  but  too  correct,"  said  themiddle- 
:;ged  lady  ;  '*  I  was  present  at  the  quarrel." 

♦'  It's  a  most  extraordinary  thing,''  said  the  astounded  magistrate, 
♦•  Muzzle." 

♦'  Yes,  your  worship." 

"Send  Mr.  Jinks  here,  directly — instantly." 

*•  Yes,  your  worship." 

Muzzle  retired  ;  and  a  pale  sharp-nosed,  half- fed,  shabbily  clad  clerk, 
of  middle-ajje,  entered  the  room.    • 

*'  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate — «' Mr.  Jinks." 

*'  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Jinks. 

"This  lady,  Mr.  Jinks,  has  come  here  to  give  information  of  an  in- 
tended duel  in  this  town." 

Mr.  Jinks,  not  exactly  knowing  what  to  do,  smiled  a  dependant's 
smile. . 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at,  Mr.  Jinks  ?"  said  the  magistrate. 

Mr.  Jinks  looked  strious,  instantly. 

"Mr.  Jinks,''  said  the  magistrate,  "you're  a  fool,  sir." 

Mr.  Jinks  looked  humbly  at  the  great  man,  and  bit  the  top  of  his  pen. 

"  You  may  s°e  somethmg  very  comical  in  this  information,  sir ;  but 
I  can  tell  you  this,  Mr.  Jinks;  that  you  have  very  little  to  laugh  at,'* 
said  the  magistrate. 

The  hungry  looking  Jinks  sighed,  as  if  he  were  quite  aware  of  the 
fact  of  his  having  ver)'  little,  indeed,  to  be  merry  about  ;  and,  being 
ordered  to  take  the  lady's  information,  shambled  to  his  seat,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  write  it  down. 

"  'I'his  man,  Pickwick,  is  the  principal.  I  understand,"  said  the  ma- 
gistrate, when  the  statemert  was  finished. 

"  He  is,"  said  the  middle-aged  lady. 

"  And  the  other  rioter — what's  his  name,  Mr.  Jinks  ]" 

"  Tupman,  sir. 

"  Tupman  is  the  second  1" 

"Yes." 

"  The  other  principal,  you  say,  has  absconded,  ma'am  V 

"Yes,"  replied  \^is3  \\'itherfield,  with  a  short  cough. 

"  Very  ^\ell,''  said  the  ma  jistrate.  "  These  are  two  cut-throats  from 
Ix)ndon,  who  have  come  down  here  to  destroy  his  majesty's  popula- 
tion, thinjiing  that  at  this  distance  from  the  capital  the  arm  of  the  law 
is  weak  and  paralyzed.  They  shall  be  made  an  example  of  Draw 
up  the  warrants,  Mr.  Jinks.     Muzzle." 

"  Yes,  your  worship."' 

"  Is  Grummer  down  stairs !" 

"Yes,  your  worship." 

"Send  him  up." 

The  obsequious  Muzzle  retired,  and  presently  returned,  introducing 
the  elderly  gentleman  in  the  top  boots,  who  was  chiefly  remarkable  for  a 
bottle  nose,  a  hoarse  voice,  snuff-coloured  surtout,  and  a  wandering  eye. 

"  Grummer,"  said  the  magistrate. 

"Your  wash-up." 

"  Is  the  town  quiet  now!" 

"  Pretty  well,  your  wash-up,,"  roplied  Grummer.  "  Pop'lar  feeling 
has  in  a  measure  subsided,  consekens  o'  tHe  bova  having  dispersed  to 
cricket." 

"Nothing  bjit  vigorous- measures  will  do  in  these  times,  Grummer," 


240  POSTHUMODS    PAPERS    OF 

said  the  magistrate,  in  a  determined  manner.  "  If  the  authority  of 
the  kmcr's  officers  is  set  at  naught,  we  mnst  have  the  riot  act  read. 
If  the  civil  power  cannot  protect  these  windows,  Grummcr,  the  military 
must  protect  the  civil  power,  and  the  windows  too.  I  believe  that  is  a 
maxim  of  the  constitution,  Mr.  Jenks?" 
"  Certainly,  sir,"  said  Jenks. 

*'  Vrry  good,"  said  the  magistrate,  signing  the  warrants.  "  Grum- 
mer,  you  will  bring  these  persons  before  me,  this  afternoon.  You  will 
find  them  at  the  Great  White  Horse.  You  recollect  the  case  of  the 
Middlesex  Dumpling  and  the  Suffolk  Bantam,  Grummerl" 

Mr.  Grummer  intimated,  by  a  retrospective  shake  of  the  head,  that 
he  should  never  forget  it — as  indeed  it  was  not  likely  he  would,  so 
long  as  it  continued  to  be  cited  daily. 

*'  This  is  even  more  unconstitutional,"  said  the  magistrate ;  "  this 
is  even  a  greater  breach  of  the  peace,  and  a  grosser  infringement  of 
his  majesty's  prerogative.  I  believe  duelling  is  one  of  his  majesty's 
most  undoubted  prerogatives,  Mr.  Jinks?" 

"  Expressly  stipulated  in  Magna  Charter,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Jinks. 

*'  One  -of  the  brightest  jewels  in  the  British  crown,  wrung  from  his 
majesty  by  the  political  union  of  barons,  I  believe,  Mr.  Jinks?"  said 
the  magistrate. 

"  Just  so,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Jinks. 

*'  Very  well,"  said  the  magistrate,  drawing  himself  up  proudly,  "  it 
shall  not  be  violated  in  this  portion  of  his  dominions.  Grummer^  pro- 
cure assistance,  and  execute  these  warrants  with  as  little  delay  as 
possible.     Muzzle." 

"Yes,  your  worship." 

"  Show  the  lady  out." 

Miss  Witherfield  retired,  deeply  impressed  with  the  magistrate's 
learning  and  research  ;  Mr.  Nupkins  retired  to  lunch  ;  Mr.  Jinks' 
retired  within  himself — that  being  the  only  retirement  he  had,  except 
tlie  sofa-bedstead  in  the  small  parlour  which  was  occupied  by  his  land- 
lady's family  in  the  day-time— ;-and  Mr.  Grummer  retired  to  wash  out, 
by  his  mode,  of  discharging  his  present  commission,  the  insult  which 
had  been  fastened  upon  himseli",  and  the  other  representative  of  his 
majesty — the  beadle — in  the  course  of  the  morning. 

While  these  resolute  and  determined  preparations  for  the  conserva- 
tion of  the  king's  peace  were  pending,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends, 
wholly  unconscious  of  the  mighty  events  in  progress,  had  sat  quietly 
down  to  dinner  ;  and  very  talkative  and  companionable  they  all  were; 
?.Ir.  Pickv/ick  was  in  the  very  act  of  relating  his  adventure  of  the  pre- 
ceding night,  to  the  great  amusement  of  his  followers,  Mr.  Tupman 
especially,  when  the  door  opened,  and  a  somewhat  forbidding  counte- 
nance peeped  into  the  room.  The  eyes  of  the  forbidding  countenance 
looked  very  earnestly  at  Mr.  Pickwick  for  several  seconds,  and  were  to 
all  appearance  satisfied  with  their  investigation  ;  for  the  body  to  which 
the  forbidding  countenance  belonged,  slowly  brought  itself  into  the 
apartment,  and  presented  the  form  of  an  elderly  individual  in  top-boots 
— not  to  keep  the  reader  any  longer  in  suspense,  in  short,  the  eyes  were 
the  wandering  eyes  of  Mr.  Grummer,  and  the  body  was  the  body  of 
the  same  gentleman. 

Mr.  Grummer's  mode  of  proceeding  was  professional,  but  peculiar. 
His  first  act  was  to  bolt  the  door  on  the  inside;,  his  second,  to  polish 
his  head  and  countenance  very  carefully  wlih  a  cotton^  handkerchief; 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  Z4l 

his  third,  to  place  his  hat,  with  the  cotton  handkerchief  in  it,  on  the 
nearest  chair ;  and  his  fourth,  to  produce  from  the  breast  pocket  of  his 
coat  a  shori  truncheon,  surmounted  by  a  brazen  crown,  with  which  he 
beckoned  to  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  grave  and  ghost-like  air. 

Mr.  Snodgrass  was  the  first  to  break  the  astonished  silence.  He 
looked  steadily  at  Mr.  Gruinraer  for  a  brief  space,  and  then  said  em- 
phatically— ''  This  is  a  private  room,  sir — a  private  room." 

Mr.  Grummer  shook  his  head,  and  replied — "  Xo  room's  private  to 
his  majesty,  when  the  street  door's  once  passed.  That's  law.  Some 
people  maintains  that  an  Englishman's  house  is  his  castle.  That's 
gammon."' 

The  Pickwickians  gazed  on  each  other  with  wondering  eyes. 

"  Which  is  Mr.  Tupman  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Grummer.  He  had  an  in- 
tuitive perception  of  Mr.  Pickwick  ;  he  knew  him  at  once. 

"My  name's  Tupman,"  said  that  gentleman. 

*'  My  name's  Law,"  said  Mr.  Grummer. 

"  What  ]"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"Law,"  replied  Mr.  Grummer,  "  law,  civil  power  and  executive; 
them's  my  titles  ;  here's  ray  authority.  Blank  Tupman,  blank  Pich- 
vick — against  the  peace  of  our  suflerin'  lord  the  king — stattit  in  that 
case  made  and  provided — and  all  regular.  I  apprehend  you  Pickvick, 
Tupman — the  aforesaid." 

*'  What  do  you  mean  by  this  insolence  V*  said  Mr.  Tupman,  starting 
up — "  Leave  the  room,  leave  the  room." 

"  Halloo, '  said  Mr.  Grummer,  retreating  very  expeditiously  to  the 
door,  and  opening  it  an  inch  or  two,  *■•  Dubbley." 

"  Well,"  said  a  deep  voice  from  the  passage. 

"Come  for'ard,  Dubbley,"  said  Mr.  Grummer. 

At  the  word  of  command  a  dirty-faced  man,  something  over  six  feet 
high,  and  stout  in  proportion,  squeezed  himself  through  the  half-open 
door,  making  his  face  very  red  in  the  process,  and  entered  the  room. 

"Is  the  other  specials  outside,  Dubbley  ;"  inquired  Mr.  Grummfr. 

Mr.  Dubbley,  who  was  a  man  of  few  words,  nodded  assent. 

''Order  in  the  diwision  under  your  charge,  Dubbley,"  said  Mr. 
Grummer. 

Mr.  Dubbley  did  as  he  was  desired  ;  and  half-a-dozen  men,  each  with 
a  short  truncheon  and  a  brass  crown,  flocked  into  the  room.  Mr. 
Grummer  pocketed  his  staff  and  looked  at  Mr.  Dubbley,  Mr.  Dubbley 
pocketed  hs  staff  and  looked  at  the  division  :  and  the  division  pocketed 
/Jinr  staves  and  looked  at  Messrs.  Tupman  and  Pickwick. 

Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  followers  rose  as  one  man. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  atrocious  intrusion  upon  my  pri- 
vacy !"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

■'Who  dares  apprehend  me  '"'  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  What  do  you  want  here,  scoundrels  l"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

Mr.  Winkle  said  nothing,  but  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  Grummer,  and 
bestowed  a  look  upon  him,  which,  if  he  had  had  any  feeling,  must 
have  pierced  hh  brain,  and  come  out  on  the  othar  side.  As  it  was, 
however,  it  had  no  visible  effect  upon  him  whatever. 

When  the  executive  perceived  that  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends 
were  disposed  to  resist  the  authority  of  the  law,  they  very  significantly 
turned  up  their  coat  sleevr.s,  as  if  knocking  them  down  in  the  firtt  in- 
stance, and  taking  them  up  afterward,  were  a  mere  professional  act, 
which  had  onlv  to  be  thought  of  to  be  done,  aa  a  matter  of  course. 

Vol.  1.-21 


249  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

This  demonstration  was  not  lost  upon  Mr.  Pickwick.  He  conferred 
a  few  moments  with  Mr.  Tupman  apart,  and  then  signified  his  readi- 
ness to  proceed  to  the  mayor's  residence,  merely  begging  the  parties 
then  and  there  assembled,  to  take  notice,  that  it  was  hi.s  tirm  intention 
to  resent  this  monstrous  invasion  of  his  privileges  as  an  Englishman, 
the  instant  he  was  at  liberty  ;  whereat,  the  parties  then  and  there  as- 
sembled laughed  very  heartily,  with  the  single  exception  of  Mr.  Grum- 
mer,  who  seemed  to  consider  that  any  slight  cast  upon  the  divine  right 
of  magistrates,  was  a  species  of  blasphemy  not  to  be  tolerated. 

But  when  Mr.  Pickwick  had  signified  his  readiness  to  bow  to  the 
laws  of  his  country,  and  just  when  the  waiters  and  hostlers,  and  cham- 
bermaids, and  post-boys,  who  had  anticipated  a  delightful  commotion 
from  his  threatened  obstinacy,  began  to  turn  away,  disappointed  and 
disgusted,  a  difficulty  arose  which  had  not  been  foreseen.  With  every 
sentiment  of  veneration  for  the  constituted  authorities,  Mr.  Pickwick 
resolutely  protested  against  making  his  appearance  in  the  public  streets 
surrounded  and  guarded  by  the  officers  of  justice,  like  a  common  crimi- 
nal. Mr.  Grummer,  in  the  then  disturbed  state  of  public  feeling,  (for 
it  was  half-holiday,  and  the  boys  had  not  yet  gone  home,)  as  resolutely 
protested  against  walking  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  way,  and  taking 
Mr.  Pickwick's  parole  that  he  would  go  straight  to  the  magistrate's  ; 
and  both  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr.  Tupman  as  strenuously  objected  to 
the  expense  of  a  post-coach,  which  was  the  only  respectable  convey- 
ance that  could  be  obtained.  The  dispute  ran  high,  and  the  dilemma 
lasted  long  ;  and  just  as  the  executive  were  on  the  point  of  overcoming 
Mr.  Pickwick's  objection  to  walk  to  the  magistrate's,  by  the  trite  expe- 
dient of  carrying  him  thither,  it  was  recollected  that  there  stood  in  the 
inn  yard,  an  old  sedan  chair,  which  having  been  oritrinally  built  for  a 
gouty  gentleman,  with  funded  property,  would  hold  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
Mr.  Tupman,  at  least  as  conveniently  as  a  modern  post-chaise.  The 
chair  was  hired,  and  brought  into  the  hall ;  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Mr. 
Tupman  squeezed  themselves  inside,  and  pulled  down  the  blinds  ;  a 
couple  of  chairmen  were  speedily  found,  and  the  prdcession  started  in 
grand  order.  The  specials  surrounded  the  body  of  the  vehicle.  Mr. 
Grummer  and  Mr.  Dubbley  marched  triumphantly  in  front,  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  and  Mr.  Winkle  walked  arm  in  arm  behind,  and  the  unsoaped  of 
Ipswich  brought  up  the  rear. 

The  shopkeepers  of  the  town,  although  they  had  a  very  indistinct 
notion  of  the  nature  of  the  offence,  could  not  but  be  much  edified  and 
gratified  by  this  spectacle.  Here  was  the  strong  arm  of  the  law, 
coming  down  with  twenty  gold  beater  force,  upon  two  offenders  from 
the  metropolis  itself;  the  mighty  engine  was  directed  by  their  own 
magistrate,  and  worked  by  their  own  officers  ;  and  both  the  criminals, 
by  their  united  efforts,  were  securely  boxed  up,  in  the  narrow  compass 
of  one  sedan-chair.  Many  were  the  expressions  of  approval  and  ad- 
miration which  greeted  Mr.  Grummer,  as  he  headed  the  cavalcade, 
staff  in  hand  ;  loud  and  long  were  the  shouts  which  were  raised  by  the 
unsoaped  ;  and  amidst  these  united  testimonials  of  public  approbation, 
the  procession  moved  slowly  and  majestically  along. 

Mr.  Weller,  habited  in  his  morning  jacket  with  the  black  calico 
sleeves,  was  returning  in  a  rather  desponding  state  from  an  unsuccessful 
survey  of  the  mysterious  house  with  the  green-gate,  when,  raising  his 
eyes,  he  beheld  a  crowd  pouring  down  the  streets,  surrounding  an 
object  which  had  very  much  the  appearance  of  a  sedan-chair.     Willing 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  ^% 

to  divert  his  thoughts  from  the  failure  of  his  enterprise,  he  stepped 
aside  to  see  the  crowd  pass  ;  and  linding  that  they  were  cheering  away, 
very  much  to  their  own  satisfaction,  forthwith  began  (just  by  way  of 
raising  his  spirits)  to  cheer  too,  with  all  his  might  and  main. 

Mr.  Grummer  passed,  and  iVIr.  Dubbley  passed,  and  the  sedan 
passed,  and  the  body-guard  of  specials  passed,  and  Sam  was  still 
responding  to  the  enthusiastic  cheers  of  the  mob,  and  waving  his  hat 
about  as  if  he  were  in  the  very  last  extreme  of  the  wildest  joy  (though 
of  course  he  had  not  the  faintest  idea  of  the  matter  in  hand,)  when  he 
was  suddenly  stopped  by  the  unexpected  appearance  of  iMr.  Winkle 
and  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  What's  the  row,  genl'm'n  1"  cried  Sam,  "  Who  have  they  got  in 
this  here  watch-box  in  mournin'  ]", 

Both  gentlemen  replied  together,  but  their  words  were  lost  in  the 
tumult. 

«'  Who  is  it  ]"  roared  Sam  again. 

Once  more  was  a  joint  reply  returned  ;  and  though  the  words  were 
inaudible,  Sam  saw  by  the  motion  of  the  two  pairs  of  lips  that  they  had 
uttered  the  magic  word  "  Pickwick." 

This  wa*?  enough.  In  another  minute  Mr.  Weller  had  made  his 
way  through  the  crowd,  stopped  the  chairmen,  and  confronted  the  portly 
Grummer. 

"  Hallo,  old  genl'm'n,"  said  Sam,  "  Who  have  you  got  in  this  here 
con-wayance  1" 

"  Stand  back,"  said  Mr.  Grummer,  whose  dignity,  like  the  dignity 
of  a  great  many  other  men,  had  been  wondrously  augmented  by  a  little 
popularity, 

"Knock  him  down,  if  he  don't,"  said  Mr.  Dubbley. 

"  I'm  werry  much  obliged  to  you,  old  genl'm'n,"  replied  Sam,  '<  for 
consulting  my  conwenience,  and  I'm  still  more  obliged  to  the  other 
genl'm'n,  who  looks  as  if  he'd  just  escaped  frotn  a  giant's  carrawan, 
for  his  werry  'ansome  suggestion ;  but  I  should  prefer  your  givin'  me 
a  answer  to  my  question,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you.  How  are  you, 
sir?"  This  last  observation  was  addressed  witli  a  patronizing  air  to 
Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  peeping  through  the  front  window. 

Mr.  Grummer,  perfectly  speechless  with  indignation,  dragged  the 
truncheon  with  the  brass  crown,  from  its  particular  pocket,  juid 
flourished  it  before  Sam's  eyes. 

"Ah,"  said  Sam,  '-it's  werry  pretty,  'specially  the  crown,  which  is 
uncommon  like  the  real  one." 

"  Stand  back,"  said  the  outraged  Mr.  Grummer.  By  way  of  adding 
-force  to  the  command,  he  thrust  the  brass  emblem  of  royalty  into  Sam'et 
neckcloth  with  one  hand,  and  seized  Sam's  collar  with  the  other,  a 
compliment  which  Mr.  Weller  returned  by  knocking  him  down  out  of 
hand,  having  ])reviously,  with  the  utmost  consideration,  knocked  down 
a  chairman  for  him  to  lie  upon. 

Whether  Mr.  W^inkle  was  seized  with  a  temporary  attack  of  that 
species  of  insanity  which  originates  in  a  sense  of  injury,  or  animated 
by  this  display  of  Mr.  Weller's  valour,  is  uncertain  ;  but  certain  it  is, 
that  he  no  sooner  saw  Mr.  Grummer  fall,  than  he  made  a  terrific  on- 
slaught on  a  small  boy  who  stood  ne.^t  him  ;  whereupon  Mr.  Snod- 
grass, in  a  truly  Christian  spirit,  and  in  order  that  he  might  take  no 
one  unawares,  announced  in  a  very  loud  tone  that  he  was  going  to  be- 
gin, and  proceeded  to  take  oil' his  cout  with  the  utmost  deliberation. — 


'tA 


POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 


He  was  immediately  surrounJed  and  secured  ;  and  it  is  but  commoii 
justice  both  to  him  and  Mr.  Winkle  to  say,  that  they  did  not  make  the 
slightest  attempt  to  rescue  either  themselves  or  Mr.  Welier,  who,  after 
a  most  vigorous  resistance,  was  overpowered  by  numbers,  and  taken  pri- 
soner. The  procession  then  re-formed,  the  chairmen  resumed  their 
stations,  and  the  march  was  recommenced. 

Mr.  Pickwick's  indignation  during  the  whole  of  this  proceeding  was 
beyond  all  bounds.  He  could  just  see  Sam  upsetting  the  specials,  and 
riying  about  in  every  direction,  and  that  was  all  he  could  see,  for  the 
sedan  doors  wouldn't  open,  and  the  blinds  wouldn't  pull  up.  At  length, 
with  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Tupman,  he  managed  to  push  open  the  roof; 
and  mounting  on  the  seat,  and  steadying  himself  as  well  as  he  could, 
by  placing  his  hand  on  that  gentleman's  shoulder,  Mr.  Pickwick  pro- 
ceeded to  address  the  multitude  ;  to  dwell  upon  the  unjustifiable  man- 
ner in  which  he  had  been  treated  ;  and  to  call  upon  them  to  take  no- 
tice that  his  servant  had  been  first  assaulted.  And  in  this  order  they 
reached  the  magistrate's  house;  the  chairmen  trotting,  the  prisoners 
following,  Mr.  Piekwick  oratorizing,  and  the  crowd  shouting. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

snOWlXG,  AMONG  A  VARIETY  OF  PLEASANT  MATTERS,  HOW  MAJESTIC  AND 
IMPARTIAL  MR.  NUPKINS  WAS  ;  AND  HOW  MR.  WELLER  RETURNED  MR. 
JOB  TP.OTTER's  SHUTTLECOCK,  AS  HEAVILY  AS  IT  CAME  ;  WITH  ANOTHER 
:«.<.TTER,  WHICH  WILL  BE  FOUND  IN  ITS   PLACE. 

Violent  was  ?rlr.  Weller's  indignation  as  he  was  borne  along ;  nu- 
merous were  the  allusions  to  the  personal  appearance  and  demeanour 
of  Mr.  Grummer  and  his  companion  ;  and  valorous  were  the  defiances 
to  any  six  of  the  gentlemen  present,  in  which  he  vented  his  dissatis- 
faction. Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  listened  with  gloomy  respect 
to  the  torrent  of  eloquence  which  their  leader  poured  forth  from  the 
sedan  chair,  and  the  rapid  course  of  which  not  all  Mr.  Tupmaii's  car- 
nest  enireaties  to  have  the  lid  of  the  vehicle  closed  were  able  to  check 
for  an  instant.  But  Mr.  Weller's  anger  quickly  gave  way  to  curiosity 
when  the  procession  turned  down  the  identical  court -yard  in  which  he 
had  met  the  runaway  Job  Trotter :  and  curiosity  was  exchanged  for  a 
feeling  of  the  most  gleeful  astonishment  when  the  all-important  Mr. 
Orammer,  commanding  the  sedan  bearers  to  halt,  advanced  with  dig- 
nified and  portentous  steps  to  the  very  green  gate  from  which  Job 
Trotter  had  emerged,  and  gave  a  mighty  pull  at  the  bell- handle  which 
hung  at  the  side  thereof  The  ring  was  answered  by  a  very  smart  and 
pretty-faced  servant  girl,  who,  after  holding  up  her  hands  in  astonish- 
ment at  the  rebellious  appearance  of  the  prisoners,  and  the  ijupassion- 
ate  language  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  summoned  Mr.  Muzzle.  Mr.  Muzzle 
opened  one-half  of  the  carriage  gate  to  admit  the  sedan,  the  captured 
ones,  and  the  specials;  and  immediately  slammed  it  in  the  faces  of  the 
mob,  who,  indignant  at  being  e.xcluded,  and  anxious  to  sec  what  fol- 
lowed, relieved  their  feelings  by  kicking  at  the  gate  and  ringing  the 
t>cH,  for  an  hour  or  two  afterwards.     In  this  amusement  they  all  took 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  245 

part  by  turns,  except  three  or  four  fortunate  individuals  who  having 
discovered  a  grating  in  the  gate  which  commanded  a  view  of  nothing, 
were  staring  through  it  with  the  same  indefatigable  perseverance  with 
which  people  will  flatten  their  noses  against  the  front  windows  of  a 
chemist's  shop,  when  a  drunken  man  who  has  been  run  over  by  a  dog 
cart  in  the  street,  is  undergoing  a  surgical  inspection  in  the  back- 
parlour. 

At  the  foot  of  a  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  house  door,  which  were 
guarded  on  either  side  by  an  American  aloe  in  a  green  tub,  the  sedan- 
chair  stopped  ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  were  conducted  into 
the  hall,  from  whence,  having  been  previously  announced  by  Muzzle, 
and  ordered  in  by  Mr.  Nupkins,  they  were  ushered  into  the  worshipfiil 
presence  of  that  public-spirited  officer. 

The  scene  was  an  impressive  one,  well  calculated  to  strike  terror  to 
the  hearts  of  culprits,  and  to  impress  them  with  an  adequate  idea  of 
the  stern  majesty  of  the  law.  In  front  of  a  big  bookcase,  in  a  big 
chair,  behind  a  big  table,  and  before  a  big  volume,  sat  Mr.  Nupkins, 
looking  a  full  size  larger  than  any  one  of  them,  big  as  they  were.  The 
table  was  adorned  with  piles  of  papers  :  and  above  the  farther  end  of 
it  appeared  the  head  and  shoulders  of  Mr.  Jinks  who  was  busily  en- 
gaged in  looking  as  busy  as  possible.  The  party  having  all  entered. 
Muzzle  carefully  closed  the  door,  and  placed  himself  behind  his  master's 
chair,  to  await  his  orders  ;  Mr.  Nu{>kins  threw  himself  back  with 
thrilling  solemnity,  and  scrutinized  the  faces  of  his  unwilling 
visiters. 

"  Now,  Grummer,  who  is  that  person  !*'  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  pointing 
to  Mr.  Pickwick,  who,  as  the  spokesmen  of  his  friend's,  stood  hat  in 
band,  bowing  with  the  utmost  politeness  and  respect. 

"  This  here's  Pickvick,  your  wash-up,"  said  Grummer. 

"  Come,  none  o'  that  'ere,  old  Strike-a-light,"  interposed  Mr.  Wel- 
ler,  elbowing  himself  into  the  front  rank — "  Beg  vour  pardon,  sir,  but 
this  here  officer  o'  youru  in  the  gambooge  tops,  'ull  never  earn  a  decent 
livin",  as  a  master  o'  the  ceremonies  any  vere.  This  here,  sir,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Weller,  thrusting  Grummer  aside,  and  addressing  the 
magistrate  with  pleasant  familiarity — •'  This  here  is  S.  Pickvick, 
Esquire  ;  this  here's  Mr.  Tupman  ;  that  'ere's  Mr.  Snodgrass ;  and 
furder  on,  next  him  on  the  t'other  side,  Mr.  Winkle — all  werry  nice 
gen'l'm'n,  sir,  as  you'll  be  werry  happy  to  have  the  acquaintance  on  ; 
so  the  sooner  you  commits  these  here  officers  o'  yourn  to  the  tread- 
mill, for  a  month  or  two,  the  sooner  we  shall  begin  to  be  on  a  pleasant 
understanding.  Business  first,  pleasure  arterwards,  as  King  Richard 
the  Third  said  ven  he  stabbed  the  t'other  king  in  the  Tower,  afore  ho 
smothered  the  babbies." 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  address,  Mr.  Weller  brushed  his  hat  with 
his  right  elbow,  and  nodded  benignly  to  Jinks,  who  had  heard  him 
throughout,  with  unspeakable  awe. 

"  Who  is  this  man,  Grummer  !"  said  the  magistrate. 

"Werry  df.sp'rate  character,  your  wa.sh-up,"  replied  Grummer. 
"  He  attempted  to  rescue  the  prisoners,  and  assaulted  the  officers — so 
we  took  him  into  custody,  and  brought  him  here." 

"  You  did  quite  right,"  replied  the  magistrate.  "  He  is  evidently  a 
desperate  ruffian." 

"He  is  my  servant,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  angrily. 

"  Oh !  he  is  your  servant,  is  he  ?  "  said  Mr.  Nupkins.     •'  A  con 
21» 


"Z-li  POSrHL'MOUS  PAPERS  OF 

spiracy  to  tleftat  the  ends  of  justice,  and  murder  its  officers.     Pick- 
wick's servant.     Put  that  down,  Mr.  Jinks." 
Mr.  Jinks  did  so. 

*' Wiiat's  your  name,  fellow  1"  thundered  Mr.  Nupkins. 
*'Veller,"  replied  Sam. 

"  A  very  good  name  for  the  Newgate  Calendar,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins. 
This  was  a  joke  ;  so  Jinks,  Grummer,  Dubbley,  all  the  specials,  and 
Muzzle  went  into  fits  of  laughter  for  five  minutes'  duration. 
*'  Put  down  his  name,  .Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate. 
"  Two  L's,  old  feller,"  said  Sam. 

Here  an  unfortunate  special  laughed  again,  whereupon  the  magis- 
trate  threatened  to  commit    him   instantly.     It's  a  dangerous   thing 
laughing  at  the  wrong  man,  in  these  cases. 
"  Where  do  you  live  ?"  said  the  magistrate. 
"  Vere-ever  I  can,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Put  down  that,  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate,  who  was  fast 
lising  into  a  rage. 

''  Score  it  under,"  said  Sam. 

*'He  is  a  vagabond,  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate.     "He  is  a 
vagabond,  on  his  own  statement,  is  he  not,  Mr.  Jinks  V 
'•  Certainly,  sir." 

'*  Then  FU  commit  him — Pll  commit  him  as  such,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins. 
"  This  is  a  werry  impartial  country  for  justice,"  said  Sam,     "  There 
ain't  a  magistrate  going,  as  don't  commit  himself  twice  as  often  as  he 
commits  other  people.'" 

At  this  sally,  another  special  laughed,  and  then  tried  to  look  so  su- 
pi'tnaturally  solemn,  that  the  magistrate  detected  him  immediately. 

"Grummer,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  reddening  with  passion,  "how  dare 
you  select  such  an  inefficient  and  disreputable  person  for  a  special  con- 
stable, as  that  man  1     How  dare  you  do  it,  sir  !" 

*'  I  am  werry  sorry,  your  wash-up,"  stammered  Grummer. 
"Very  sorry  !"  said  the  furious  magistrate.     "You  shall  repent  of 
this  neglect  of  duty,  Mr.  Grummer ;  you  shall  be  made  an  example  of. 
Take  that  fellow's  staff  away»     He's  drunk.     You're  drunk,  fellow." 
"  I  am  not  drunk,  your  worship,"  said  the  man. 
"You  are  drunk,"  returned  the  magistrate.     "How  dare  you  say 
you  are  not  drunk,  sir,  when    I  say  you  are  ?     Doesn't  he  smell  of 
ypirils,  Grummer  ?" 

"  Horrid,  your  wash-up,"  replied  Grummer,  who  had  a  vague  im- 
pression that  there  was  a  smell  of  rum  somewhere. 

"  I  knew  he  did,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins.     "  I  saw  he  was  drunk  when 
he  first  came  into  the  room,  by  his  excited  eye.     Did  you  observe  his 
excited  eye,  Mr.  Jinks  V 
"Certainly,  sir." 

"  I  haven't  touched  a  drop  of  spirits  this  morning,"  said  the  man, 
who  was  as  sober  a  fellow  as  need  be. 

"  How  dare  you  tell  me  a  falsehood !"  said  Mr.  Nupkins.     "  Isn't 
he  drunk  at  this  moment,  Mr.  Jinks?" 
"  Certainly,  sir,"  replied  Jinks. 

"Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate,  "I  shall  commit  that  man  for 
contempt.     Make  out  his  committal,  Mr.  Jinks." 

And  committed  the  special  would  have  been,  only  Jinks,  who  was 
the  magistrate's  adviser,  having  had  a  legal  education  of  three  years,  in 
a  country  attorney's  office,  whispered  the  magistrate  that  he  thought  it 


THE  PICKWICK  CLWB.  247 

wouldn't  do  ;  so  th?  mairistratc  made  a  speech,  and  said,  that  in  con- 
sideration of  the  special's  family,  he  would  merely  reprimand  and  dis- 
charcre  him.  Accordinuly,  the  special  xvas  abused  vehementiy  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  and  sent  about  his  business  ;  and  Grurnmer,  Dud- 
ley, Muzzle,  and  all  the  other  specials  murmured  their  admiration  of 
the  magnanimity  of  Mr.  Xupkins. 

«'  Now,  Mr.  Jinks,'"  said  the  magistrate,  "  swear  Grummer.'' 

Grummer  was  swoni  directly  ;  but  as  Grummer  wandered,  and  Mr. 
Nupkins'  dinner  was  nearly  ready,  Mr.  Nupkins  cut  the  matter  short, 
by  putting  leading  questions  to  Grummer,  which  Grummer  answered 
as  nearly  in  the  affirmative  as  he  could.  So,  the  examination  went 
off,  all  very  smooth  and  comfortable  ;  and  the  two  assaults  were  proved 
against  Mr.  Weller,  and  a  threat  against  Mr.  Winkle,  and  a  push 
acrainst  Mr.  Snodgrass.  And  when  all  this  was  done  to  the  magis- 
trate's satisfaction,  the  magistrate  and  Mr.  Jinks  consulted  in  whispers. 

The  consultation  having  lasted  about  ten  minutes,  Mr.  Jinks  retired 
to  his  end  of  the  table  ;  and  the  magistrate,  with  a  preparatory  cough, 
drew  himself  up  in  his  chair,  and  was  proceeding  to  commence  his 
address,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  interposed. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for  interrupting  you,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  ; 
"  but  before  you  proceed  to  express,  and  act  upon,  any  opinion  you 
may  have  formed  on  the  statements  which  have  been  made  here,  I 
must  claim  my  right  to  be  heard  so  far  as  I  am  personally  concerned." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  said  the  magistrate,  peremptorily. 

"  I  must  submit  to  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

•*  Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  interposed  the  magistrate,  "  or  I  shall  or- 
der an  officer  to  remove  you." 

"  You  may  order  your  ofiicers  to  do  whatever  you  please,  sir,"'  said 
Mr.  Pickwick  ;  "  and  I  have  no  doubt,  from  the  specimen  I  have  had 
of  the  subordination  preserved  among  them,  that  whatever  you  order 
they  will  execute  ;  but  I  shall  take  the  liberty,  sir,  of  claiming  my  right 
to  be  heard,  until  I  am  removed  by  force." 

"  Pickvick  and  principle,"  exclaimed  -Mr.  Weller,  in  a  vcrj-  audible 
voice. 

'^Sam,  be  quiet,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Dura  as  a  drum  vith  a  hole  in  it,"  replied  Sam. 

Mr.  ISupkins  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwick  with  a  gaze  of  intense  astonish- 
ment, at  his  displaying  such  unwonted  temerity  ;  and  was  apparenth" 
about  to  return  a  very  angry  reply,  when  Mr.  Jinks  pulled  him  by  the 
sleeve,  and  whispered  something  in  his  ear.  To  this  the  magistrate 
returned  a  half-audible  answer,  and  then  the  whispering  was  renewed. 
Jinks  was  evidently  remonstrating. 

At  length  the  magistrate,  gulping  down  with  a  verv'  bad  grace  his 
disinclination  to  hear  any  thing  more,  turned  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and 
said  sharply, — "  What  do  you  want  to  say  1" 

"  First,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  sending  a  look  through  his  spectacles, 
under  which  even  Nupkins  quailed, — '•  Firf^t,  I  wish  to  know  what  I 
and  my  friend  have  been  brought  here  for  "' 

"  .Must  I  tell  him  ''.'"  whispered  the  magistrate  to  Jinks. 

'•  I  think  you  had  belter,  sir,"  whispered  Jinks  to  the  magistrate. 

•'  An  information  has  been  sworn  before  me,"  said  the  magistrate, 
*'that  it  is  apprehended  you  are  going  to  fight  a  duel,  and  that  the 
other  man,  Tupman^  is  your  aider  and  abetter  in  it  Therefore — eh, 
Mr.  Jinks?" 


248  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OP 

"  Certainly,  sir." 

"  Therefore,  I  call  upon  you  both,  to — I  think  that's  the  course,  Mr. 
Jinks  r' 

"  Certainly,  sir." 

*'  To — to — what,  Mr.  Jinks  1"  said  the  magistrate,  pettishly. 

"  To  find  bail,  sir." 

"  Yes.  Therefore.  I  call  upon  you  both — as  I  was  about  to  say 
when  I  was  interrupted  by  my  clerk — to  find  bail." 

"Good  bail,"  whispered  Mr.  Jinks. 

*'  I  shall  require  good  bail,"  said  the  magistrate. 

"  Town's  people,"  whispered  Jinks. 

"  They  must  be  town's  people,"  said  the  magistrate. 

"  Fifty  pounds  each,"  whispered  Jinks,  "  and  householders,  of  course.'' 

"I  shall  require  two  sureties,  of  fifty  pounds  each,"  said  the  magis- 
trate aloud,  with  great  dignity,  "  and  they  must  be  householders,  of 
course." 

*'  But,  bless  my  heart,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who,  together  with 
Mr.  Tupman,  was  all  amazement  and  indignation  ;  "  we  are  perfect 
strangers  in  this  town.  I  have  as  little  knowledge  of  any  householders 
here,  as  I  have  mtention  of  fighting  a  duel  with  any  body." 

"  I  dare  say,"  replied  the  magistrate,  "  I  dare  say — don't  you,  Mr 
Jinks  r' 

"  Certainly,  sir." 

"  Have  you  any  thing  more  to  say  V  inquired  the  magistrate. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  a  great  deal  more  to  say,  which  he  would  no  doubt 
have  said  very  little  to  his  own  advantage,  or  the  magistrate's  satis- 
faction, if  he  had  not,  the  moment  he  ceased  speaking,  been  pulled  by 
the  sleeve  by  Mr.  Weller,  with  whom  he  was  immediately  engaged  in 
so  earnest  a  conversation,  that  he  suflTered  the  magistrate's  inquiry  to 
pass  wholly  unnoticed.  Mr.  Nu[^kins  was  not  the  man  to  ask  a  ques- 
tion of  the  kind  twice  over  ;  and  so,  with  another  preparatory  cough, 
he  proceeded,  amidst  the  reverential  and  admiring  silence  of  the  con- 
stables, to  pronounce  his  decision. 

He  should  fine  Weller  two  pounds  for  the  first  assault,  and  threo 
pounds  for  the  second.  He  should  fine  Winkle  two  pounds,  and  Snod- 
grass  one  pound,  besides  requiring  them  to  enter  into  their  own  re- 
cognizances to  keep  the  peace  towards  all  his  Majesty's  subjects,  and 
especially  towards  his  liege  servant,  Daniel  Grummer.  Pickwick  and 
Tupman  he  had  already  held  to  bail. 

Immediately  on  the  magistrate  ceasing  to  speak,  Mr.  Pickwick,  with 
a  smile  mantling  on  his  again  good-humoured  countenance,  stepped 
forward,  and  said  — 

"  I  beg  the  magistrate's  pardon,  but  may  I  request  a  few  minutes' 
private  conversation  with  him,  on  a  matter  of  deep  importance  to 
himself?" 

"  What  I"  said  the  magistrate. 

Mr.  Pickwick  repeated  his  request. 

"  This  is  a  most  extraordinary  request,"  said  the  magistrate — "  A 
private  interview  !'' 

**  A  private  interview,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  firmly  ;  *'  only,  as  a 
part  of  the  information  which  I  wish  to  communicate  is  derived  from 
my  servant,  I  should  wish  him  to  be  present." 

The  magistrate  looked  at  Mr.  Jinks,  Mr.  Jinks  looked  at  the  magis- 
trate, and  the  officers  looked  at  each  other  in  amazement.     Mr  Nup- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  249 

kins  turned  suddenly  pale.  Could  the  man  "^V'eller,  in  a  moment  of 
remorse,  have  divulged  some  secret  conspiracy  for  his  assassination"? 
It  was  a  dreadful  thought.  He  was  a  public  man  ;  and  he  turned  paler, 
as  he  thought  of  Julius  Caesar  and  Mr.  Perceval. 

The  magistrate  looked  at  Mr.  Pickwiclc  again,  and  beckoned  Mr. 
Jinks. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this  request,  Mr.  Jinks  1"  murmured  Mr. 
Nupkins. 

Mr.  Jinks,  who  didn't  e.xactly  know  what  to  think  of  it,  and  was 
afraid  he  might  offend,  smiled  feebly,  after  a  dubious  fashion,  and. 
screwing  up  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  shook  his  head  slowly  from  side 
to  side. 

'•■  Mr.  Jinks,"  said  the  magistrate,  gravely,  "you  are  an  ass,  sir." 
At  this  little  expression  of  opinion,  Mr.  Jinks  smiled  again — rather 
more  feebly  than  before — and  edged  himself,  by  degrees,  back  into  his 
own  corner. 

Mr.  Nupkins  debated  the  matter  within  himself  for  a  few  seconds, 
and  then  rising  from  lus  chair,  and  requesting  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam 
to  follow  him,  led  the  way  into  a  small  room  which  opened  into  the 
justice  parlour.  Desiring  Mr.  Pickwick  to  walk  to  the  farther  end  of 
the  little  apartment,  and  holding  his  hand  upon  the  half-closed  door, 
that  he  might  be  able  to  effect  an  immediate  escape,  in  case  there  was 
the  least  tendency  to  a  display  of  hostilities,  Mr.  Nupkins  expressed 
his  readiness  to  hear  the  communication,  whatever  it  mitrht  be. 

"I  will  come  to  the  point  at  once,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "it 

affects  yourself,  and  your  credit,  materially.     I  have  every  reason  to 

believe,  sir,  that  you  are  harbouring  in  your  house,  a  gross  impostor '."' 

"  Two,"  interrupted  Sam,  "  Mulberry  agin  all  natur',  for  tears  and 

willany." 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  if  I  am  to  render  myself  intelligibk' 
to  this  gentleman,  I  must  beg  you  to  control  your  feelings." 

"Worry  sorry,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller  ;  ''but  when  I  think  o'  that 
'ere  Job,  I  can't  help  opening  tlic  waive  an  inch  or  two." 

"  In  one  word,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  is  my  servant  right  in  sus- 
pecting that  a  certain  Captain  Fitzmarshall  is  in  the  habit  oi'  visiting 
kere  ]  Because,"  added  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  he  saw  that  Mr.  Nupkins 
was  about  to  offer  a  very  indignant  interruption — "  because,  if  he  be,  I 
know  that  person  to  be  a — " 

"  Hush,  hush,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  closing  the  door.  "  Know  him  to 
be  what,  sir  1" 

"  An  unprincipled  adventurer — a  dishonourable  character — a  man 
who  preys  upon  society,  and  makes  easily- deceived  people  his  dupes, 
sir  ;  his  absurd,  his  foolish,  his  wretched  dupes,  sir,"  said  the  excited 
Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Dear  mo,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  colouring  up  very  red,  and  altering 

Iiitt  whole  manner  directly.     "  Dear  me,  Mr. " 

"Pickvick,"  said  Sam. 

"  Pickwick,"  said  the  magistrate,  "  Dear  me,  Mr.  Pickwick — pray 
take  a  seat — you  cannot  mean  this  !     Captain  Fitzmarshall  I'' 

"  Don't  call  him  a  cajj'en,"  said  Sam,  "  nor  Kitzmar«hall  neither  ;  he 
ain't  neither  one  nor  t'other.  He's  a  strolling  actor,  he  is,  atid  his 
name's  Jingle  ;  and  if  ever  there  was  a  wolf  in  a  mulberry  suit,  that 
'ere  Job  Trotter's  him." 

"  It  is  very  true,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  replying  to  the  magistrate's 


250  POSTHfMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

look  of  amazement ;  '♦  my  only  business  in  this  town  is  to  expose  the 
person  of  whom  we  now  speak." 

And  j\Ir.  Pickwick  proceeded  to  pour  into  the  horror-stricken  ear  of 
Mr.  ISupkins  an  abridged  account  of  all  Mr.  Jingle's  atrocities.  He 
related  how  he  had  first  met  him,  how  he  had  eloped  with  Miss  Wardle, 
how  he  had  cheerfully  resigned  the  lady  for  a  pecuniary  consideratio;i, 
how  he  had  entrapped  hiin  into  a  lady'j  boarding  school  at  midnight, 
and  how  he  (Mr.  Pickwick)  now  felt  it  his  duty  to  expose  his  assump- 
tion of  his  present  name  and  rank. 

As  the  narrative  proceeded,  all  the  warm  blood  in  the  body  of  Mr. 
Nupkins  tingled  up  into  the  very  lips  of  his  ears.  He  had  picked  up 
the  captain  at  a  neighbouring  race-course.  Charmed  with  his  long  list 
of  aristocratic  acquaintance,  his  extensive  travel,  and  his  fashionable 
demeanour,  Mrs.  Nupkins  and  Miss  Nupkins  had  exhibited  Captain 
Fitzmarshall,  and  quoted  Captain  Fitzmarshall,  and  hurled  Captain 
Fitzmarshall  at  the  devoted  heads  of  their  select  circle  of  acquaint- 
ance, until  their  bosom  friends,  Mrs.  Porkenham  and  the  Miss  Porken- 
hams,  and  Mr.  Sidney  Porkenham,  were  ready  to  burst  with  jealousy 
and  despair.  And  now  to  hear,  after  all,"  that  ho  was  a  needy  adven- 
turer, a  strolling  player,  and  if  not  a  swindler,  something  so  very  like 
it  that  it  was  hard  to  tell  the  difference  !  What  would  the  Pork- 
enhams  say  ]  What  would  be  the  triumph  of  Mr.  Sidney  Porkenham 
when  he  found  that  his  addresses  had  been  slighted  for  such  a  rival  ! 
How  should  he  meet  the  eye  of  old  Porkenham  at  the  next  Quarter 
Sessions  ! — and  what  a  handle  would  it  be  for  the  opposition  magiste- 
rial party,  if  the  story  got  abroad  ! 

"  But  after  all,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  brightening  up  for  a  moment  after 
a  long  pause  ;  "  after  all,  this  is  a  mere  statement.  Captain  Fitzmar- 
shall is  a  man  of  very  engaging  manners — and,  I  dare  say,  has  many 
enemies.  What  proof  have  you  of  the  truth  of  these  representations." 

'•  Confront  me  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "that  is  all  I  ask, 
and  all  I  require.  Confront  him  with  me,  and  my  friends  here  ;  you 
will  want  no  farther  proof." 

"  Why,"'  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  "  that  might  be  very  easily  done,  for 
he  will  be  here  to-night,  and  then  there  would  be  no  occasion  to  make 
the  matter  puMic,  just — just — for  the  young  man"s  own  sake,  you 
know.  I — I — should  like  to  consult  Mrs.  Nupkins  on  the  propriety 
of  the  step,  in  the  lirst  instance,  though.  At  all  events,  Mr.  Pickwick, 
we  must  despatch  this  legal  business  before  we  can  do  any  thing  else. 
Pray  step  back  into  the  next  room." 

Into  the  next  room  they  went. 

"  Grummer,"  said  the  magistrate,  in  an  awful  voice. 

"Your  wash-up,"  replied  Grummer,  with  the  smilt:  of  a  favourite. 

"  Come,  come,  sir,"  said  the  magistrate,  sternly.  "  Don't  let  me 
see  any  of  this  levity  here.  It  is  very  unbecoming,  and  I  can  assure 
YOU  that  you  have  very  little  to  smile  at.  Was  the  account  you  gave 
me  just  now  strictly  true  1     Now  be  careful,  sir." 

"  Your  wash-up,"  stammered  Grummer,  "I — " 

•'  Oh,  you  are  confused,  are  you  ?"  said  the  magistrate.  "  Mr.  Jinks, 
you  observe  his  confusion  ?" 

"  Certainly,  sir,''  replied  Jinks. 

"Now,"'  said  the  magistrate,  "just  repeat  your  statement,  Grum- 
mer, and  again  I  warn  you  to  be  careful.  Mr.  Jinks,  take  his  words 
«Liwn." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  251 

The  unfortunate  Grummer  proceeded  to  re-state  his  complaint,  but 
■what  between  Mr.  Jinks  taking  down  his  words,  and  the  magistrate's 
taking  them  up;  his  natural  tendency  to  rambling,  and  his  extreme 
confusion,  he  managed  to  get  involved,  in  somt-thing  under  three 
minutes,  in  such  a  mass  of  entanglement  and  contradiction,  that  Mr. 
IS'upkins  at  once  declared  he  didn't  believe  him.  .So  the  fines  were 
remitted,  and  Mr.  Jinks  found  a  couple  of  bail  in  no  time.  And  all 
these  solemn  proceedings  having  been  satisfactorily  concluded,  Mr. 
Grummer  was  ignominiously  ordered  out — an  awful  instance  of  the 
instability  of  human  greatness,  and  the  uncertain  tenure  of  great  men's 
favour. 

Mrs.  Nupkins  was  a  majestic  female  in  a  blue  gauze  turban  and  a 
light  brown  wig.  Miss  Nupkins  possessed  all  her  mamma's  haughti- 
ness without  the  turban,  and  all  her  ill-nature  without  the  wig ;  and 
whenever  the  exercise  of  these  two  amiable  qualities  involved  mother 
and  daughter  in  some  unpleasant  dilemma,  as  they  not  unfrequently 
did,  they  both  concurred  in  laying  the  blame  on  the  shoulders  of  Mr. 
Nupkins.  Accordingly,  when  Mr.  iSupkins  sought  .Mrs.  Nupkins,  and 
detailed  the  communication  which  had  been  made  by  Mr.  Pickwick, 
Mr.-5.  Nu[)kins  suddenly  recollected  that  she  had  always  expected  some- 
thing of  the  kind  ;  that  she  had  always  said  it  would  be  so  ;  that  her 
advice  was  never  taken  ;  that  she  really  did  not  know  what  Mr.  Nup- 
kins supposed  she  was  ;   and  so  forth. 

'*  The  idea  !"  said  Miss  Nupkins,  forcing  a  tear  of  very  scanty  pro- 
portions, into  the  comer  of  each  eye, '"  the  idea  of  being  made  such  a 
fi>olof!" 

"  Ah  I  you  may  thank  your  papa,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Nupkins. 
*'  How  I  have  implored  and  begged  that  man  to  inquire  into  the  cap- 
tain's family  connexions  ;  how  I  have  ur^ed  and  entreated  him  to  take 
some  decisive  step  !   I  am  quite  certain  nobody  would  believe  it — quite." 

"  But  my  dear,''  said  >ir.  Nupkins. 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  you  aggravating  thing,  don't,''  said  Mrs.  Nupkins. 

"  .My  love,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  ''you  professed  yourself  very  fond 
of  Captain  Fitzmarshall.  You  have  constantly  asked  him  here,  my 
dea.%  and  you  have  lost  no  opportunity  of  introducing  him  elsewhere.'' 

"Didn't  I  say  so,  Henrietta!'  said  .Mrs.  Nupkins,  appealing  to  her 
daughter  with  the  air  of  a  much  injured  female — '•  Didn't  I  say  that 
your  papa  would  turn  round  and  lay  all  this  at  my  door  I  Didn't  I 
say  so  !"     Here  Mrs.  Nupkins  sobbed. 

"  Oh,  pa  !"  remonstrated  Miss  Nupkins.    And  here  she  sobbed,  too. 

"  Isn't  it  too  much,  when  he  has  brought  all  this  disgrace  and  ridi- 
cule upon  us,  for  him  to  taunt  me  with  being  the  caubC  of  it  !"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Nupkins. 

"  How  can  we  ever  show  ourselves  in  society  I"  said  Miss  Nupkins. 

"  How  can  we  face  the    Porkenhams  ]"  said  Mrs.  Nupkins. 

*  Or  the  Griggs  I"  said  .Miss  Nupkins. 

"Or  the  Slummintowkcns  !"  said  Mrs.  Nupkins.  "  But  what  does 
your  papa  care  !  What  is  it  to  him  .'"  At  this  dreadful  reflection,  .Mrs. 
Nupkins  wept  with  mental  auiguish,  and  .Miss  Nupkins  followed  on 
the  same  side. 

Mrs.  Nupkin's  tears  continued  to  gush  forth,  with  great  velocity, 
until  she  had  gained  a  littl?  time  to  think  the  matter  over,  when  she 
decided  in  her  own  mind  that  the  best  thing  to  do,  would  be  to  ask  .Mr. 
Pickwick  and  his  friends  to  remain  until  the  captain's  arrival,  and  then 


252  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

to  give  Mr.  Pickwick  the  opportunity  he  sought.  If  it  appeared  that 
he  had  spoken  truly,  the  captain  could  be  turned  out  of  the  house 
without  noising  the  matter  abroad,  and  they  could  easily  account  to  the 
Porkenhams  for  his  disappearance,  by  saying  that  be  had  been  ap- 
pointed, through  the  court  influence  of  his  family,  to  the  Govemor- 
ireneralship  of  Sierra  Leone,  or  Sangur  Point,  or  any  other  of  those 
salubrious  climates  which  enchant  Europeans  so  much,  that  when  they 
once  get  there  they  can  hardly  ever  prevail  upon  themselves  to  come 
back  again. 

When  Mrs.  Nupkins  dried  up  her  tears.  Miss  Nupkins  dried  up  hers^ 
and  Mr.  Nupkins  was  very  glad  to  settle  the  matter  as  Mrs.  Nupkins 
had  proposed.  So  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends,  having  washed  off 
all  marks  of  their  late  encounter,  were  introduced  to  the  ladies,  and 
soon  afterward  to  their  dinner  ;  and  Mr.  Wellcr,  whom  the  magistrate 
with  his  peculiar  sagacity,  had  discovered  in  half  an  hour  to  be  one  of 
the  finest  fellows  alive,  was  consigned  to  the  care  and  guardianship  of 
Mr.  Muzzle,  who  was  specially  enjoined  to  take  him  below,  and  make 
much  of  hira. 

"How  de  do,  sir  r'  said  Mr.  Muzzle,  as  he  conducted  Mr.  Weller 
down  the  kitchen  stairs. 

"  Why,  no  con-siderable  change  has  taken  place  in  the  state  of  my 
system,  since  I  see  you  cocked  up  behind  your  governor's  chair  in  the 
parlour,  a  little  vile  ago,"  replied  Sam. 

"You  will  excuse  my  not  taking  more  notice  of  you  then,"  said  Mr. 
Muzzle.  "You  see,  master  hadn't  introduced  us,  then.  How  fond 
he  is  of  you,  Mr.  Weller,  to  be  sure  !" 

"Ah."  said  Sam,  "  what  a  pleasant  chap  he  is  !" 

"Ain't he  1"  replied  Mr.  Muzzle. 

"  So  much  humour,"  said  Sam. 

"  And  such  a  man  to  speak,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle.  "  How  his  ideas 
flow,  don't  they]" 

"  Wonderful,"  replied  Sam  ;  "  they  comes  a  pouring  out,  knocking 
each  other's  heads  so  fast,  that  they  seems  to  stun  one  another ;  you 
hardly  know  what  he's  arter,  do  you  V 

"  That's  the  great  merit  of  his  style  of  speaking,"  rejoined  Mr.  Muz- 
zle. "  Take  care  of  the  last  step,  Mr.  Weller.  Would  you  like  to 
wash  your  hands,  sir,  before  we  join  the  ladies  1  Here's  a  sink,  with 
the  water  laid  on,  sir,  and  a  clean  jack  towel  behind  the  door." 

"  Ah,  perhaps  I  may  as  vel  have  a  rinse,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  apply- 
innr  plenty  of  yellow  soap  to  the  towel,  and  rubbing  away,  till  his  face 
shone  again.     "  How  many  ladies  are  there  I" 

"  Only  two  in  our  kitchen,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle,  "  cook  and  'ousemaid. 
We  keep  a  boy  to  do  the  dirty  work,  and  a  gal  besides,  but  they  dine 
in  the  washus." 

"  Oh,  they  dines  in  the  wa.shus,  do  they  ]"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Muzzle,  "  we  tried  'em  at  our  table  when  they 
first  come,  but  we  couldn't  keep  'em.  The  gal's  manners  is  dreadful 
vulgar  ;  and  the  boy  breathes  so  very  hard  while  he's  eating,  that  we 
found  it  impossible  to  sit  at  table  with  him." 

"  What  a  young  grampus  !"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Oh,  dreadful,"  rejoined  Mr.  Muzzle;  "but  that  is  the  worst  of 
country  service,  Mr.  Weller ;  the  juniors  is  always  so  very  savage. 
This  way,  sir,  if  you  please — this  way." 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  253 

And  preccfiing  Mr,  Weller,  with  the  utmost  politeness,  Mr,  Muzzle 
conducted  him  into  the  kitchen. 

"Mary,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle  to  the  pretty  servant  girl,  "this  is  Mr. 
Weller,  a  gentlemanNas  master  has  sent  down  to  be  made  as  comfortable 
as  possible." 

'*  And  your  master's  a  knowin'  hand — and  has  just  sent  me  to  the 
right  place,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  with  a  glance  of  admiration  at  Mary. 
"  If  I  was  master  o'  this  here  house,  I  should  always  find  the  materials 
for  comfort  vere  Mary  vas." 

*'  Why,  Mr.  Weller  !"  said  Mary,  blushing. 

"  Well,  I  never  !"  ejaculated  the  cook. 

"  Bless  me,  cook,  I  forgot  you,"  said  Mr,  Muzzle,  "  Mr.  Weller,  let 
me  introduce  you." 

"  How  are  you,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Weller.  "  Werry  glad  to  see  you, 
indeed  ;  and  hope  our  acquaintance  may  be  a  long  'un,  as  the  gen'lm'n 
said  to  the  fi'  pun'  note." 

When  this  ceremony  of  introduction  had  been  gone  through,  the 
cook  and  Mary  retired  into  the  back  kitchen  to  titter  for  ten  minutes  ; 
and  then  returning,  all  giggles  and  blushes,  they  sat  down  to  dinner. 

Mr.  Weller's  easy  manner  and  conversational  powers  had  such 
irresistible  influence  with  his  new  friends,  that  before  the  dinner  was 
half  over,  they  were  on  a  footing  of  perfect  intimacy,  and  in  possession 
of  a  full  account  of  the  delinquency  of  Job  Trotter. 

"  I  never  could  a-bear  that  Job,"  said  Mary. 

"  No  more  you  never  ought  to,  my  dear,"  rcpfied  Mr.  Weller, 

"Why  not?"  inquired  Mary. 

"  'Cos  ugliness  and  svindlen'  never  ought  to  be  formillar  vith  elegance 
and  viriew,"  replied  Mr.  Welkr.     "Ought  they,  Mr.  Muzzle  !" 

"  Not  by  no  means,"  replied  that  gentleman. 

Here  Mary  laughed,  and  faid  the  cook  had  made  her ;  and  the  cook 
laughed,  and  said  she  hadn't. 

"  I  han't  got  a  glass,"  said  Mary. 

"  Drink  vith  me,  my  dear,"  said  Mr  Weller.  "  Put  your  lips  to  this 
here  tumbler,  and  then  I  can  kiss  you  by  deputy." 

"  For  shame,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mary. 

♦'  "Wliat's  a  shame,  my  dear  ?" 

"  Talkin'  in  that  way." 

"  Nonsense  :  it  ain't  no  harm — its  natur  ;  ain't  it,  cook  ]" 

"  Don't  ask  me,  imperence,"  replied  the  cook,  in  a  high  stale  of 
delight ;  and  hereupon  the  cook  and  Mary  laughed  again  till  what  be- 
tween theiiecr,  the  cold  meat,  and  the  laughter  combined,  the  latter 
young  lady  was  brought  to  the  verge  of  choking — an  alarming  crisis, 
from  which  she  was  only  recovered  by  sundry  pats  on  the  back,  and 
other  necessary  attentions,  most  delicately  administered  by  Mr.  Samuel 
Weller. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  jollity  and  conviviality,  a  loud  ring  was  heard 
at  the  garden  gate,  to  which  the  young  gentleman  who  took  his  meals 
in  the  washhouse  immediately  responded.  Mr.  Weller  was  in  the 
height  of  his  attentions  to  the  pretty  housemaid  ;  Mr.  Muzzle  was 
busy  doing  the  honours  of  the  table  ;  and  the  cook  had  just  paused  to 
laugh,  in  the  very  act  of  raising  a  huge  morsel  to  her  lips,  when  the 
kitchen  door  opened,  and  in  walked  Mr.  Job  Trotter. 

We  have  said,  in  walked  Mr  Job  Trotter ;  but  the  statement  is  not 
distinguished  by  our  usual  scrupulous  adherence  to  fact.     The  door 

Vol.  I.— 22 


254  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OF 

opened  and  Mr.  Trotter  appeared.  He  would  have  walked  in,  and  ws* 
in  the  very  act  of  doing  so,  indeed,  when  catching  sight  of  Mr.Weller 
he  involuntarily  shrunk  back  a  pace  or  two,  and  stood  gazing  on  the 
unexpected  scene  before  him,  perfectly  motionless  with  amazement  and 
terror. 

"  Here  he  is,"  said  Sam,  rising  with  great  glee.  _  •'  Why  we  were 
that  worry  moment  a  speaking  o'  you.  How  are  you  1  Vere  have  you 
been  !     Come  in." 

And  laying  his  hand  on  the  mulberry  collar  of  the  unresisting  Job, 
Mr.  Wcller  dragged  him  into  the  kitchen  ;  and  locking  the  door,  hand- 
ed the  key  to  Mr.  Muzzle,  who  very  coolly  buttoned  it  up  in  a  side 
pocket. 

"  Well,  here's  a  game,"  cried  Sara.  *'  Only  think  o'  my  master 
havin'  the  pleasure  o'  meeting  your'n  up  stairs,  and  me  havin'  the  joy 
of  meetin'  you  down  here.  How  are  you  gettin'  on,  and  how  is  the 
chandlery  bus'ness  likely  to  do  ?  Yel,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you.  How 
happy  you  look.    It's  quite  a  treat  to  see  you  ;  ain't  it,  Mr.  Muzzle  V* 

"Quite,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle. 

•'  So  cheerful  he  is,"  said  Sam. 

"  In  such  good  spirits,"  said  Muzzle. 

"  And  so  glad  to  see  xis — that  makes  it  so  much  more  comfortable," 
said  Sam.     "  Sit  down,  sit  down." 

Mr.  Trotter  suffered  himself  to  be  forced  into  a  chair  by  the  fireside 
He  cast  his  small  eyes  first  on  Mr  Weller  and  then  on  Mr,  Muzzle, 
but  said  nothing. 

"Well  now,"  said  Sam,  "  afore  these  here  ladies,  I  should  just  like 
to  ask  you,  as  a  sort  of  curiosity,  vether  you  don't  consider  yourself 
as  nice  and  veil- behaved  a  young  gcn'lm'n  as  ever  used  a  pink  check 
pocket-handkerchief,  and  the  number  four  collection?" 

"  And  as  was  ever  a-going  to  be  married  to  a  cook,"  said  that  lady, 
indignantly,  "  The  willin  !" 

"  And  leave  off  his  evil  ways,  and  set  up  in  the  chandlery  line  arter- 
wards,"  said  the  housemaid. 

"  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle,  so- 
lemnly, enraged  at  the  last  two  allusions,  »•  this  here  lady  (pointing  to 
the  cook)  keeps  company  with  me  ;  and  when  you  presume,  sir,  to 
talk  of  keeping  chandler's  shops  with  her,  you  injure  me  in  one  of  the 
most  delicate  points  in  which  one  man  can  injure  another.  Do  you 
understand  that,  sir  1" 

Here  Mr.  Muzzle,  who  had  a  great  notion  of  his  eloquence,  in  which 
he  imitated  his  master,  paused  for  a  reply. 

But  Mr.  Trotter  made  no  reply.  JSo  Mr.  Muzzle  proceeded  in  a  so- 
lemn manner — 

"  It  is  very  probable,  sir,  that  you  won't  be  wanted  up  stairs  for  se- 
veral minutes,  sir,  because  7ny  master  is  at  this  moment  particularly 
engaged  in  settling  the  hash  of  your  master,  sir,  and  therefore  you'll 
have  leisure,  sir,  for  a  little  private  talk  with  me,  sir.  Do  you  under- 
stand that,  sir  1" 

Mr.  Muzzle  again  paused  for  a  reply  ;  and  again  Mr.  Trotter  disap- 
pointed him. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Muzzle,  "  I'm  very  sorry  to  have  to  explain 
myself  before  the  ladies,  but  the  urgency  of  the  case  will  be  my  excuse." 

"  The  back  kitchen's  empty,  sir ;  if  you  will  step  in  there,  sir,  Mr. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  255 

Weller  will  see  fair,  and  we  can  have  mutual  satisfaction  till  the  bell 
rings.     Follow  me,  sir." 

As  Mr.  Muzzle  uttered  these  words,  he  took  a  step  or  two  towards 
the  door  ;  and  by  way  of  saving  time,  he  began  to  pull  off  his  coat  as 
he  walked  along. 

IVow  the  cook  no  sooner  heard  the  concluding  words  of  this  despe- 
rate challenge,  and  saw  Mr.  Muzzle  about  to  put  it  into  execution, 
than  she  uttered  a  loud  and  piercing  shriek  ;  and  rushing  on  Mr.  Job 
Trotter,  who  rose  from  his  chair  on  the  instant,  tore  and  buffeted  his 
large  flat  face,  with  an  energy  peculiar  to  excited  females,  and  twining 
her  hands  in  his  long  black  hair,  tore  therefrom  about  enough  to  make 
five  or  six  dozen  of  the  very  largest-sized  mourning-rings.  Having 
accomplished  this  feat  with  all  the  ardour  which  her  devoted  love  for 
Mr.  Muzzle  inspired,  she  staggered  back;  and  being  a  lady  of  very 
excitable  and  delicate  feelings,  instantly  fell  under  the  dresser,  and 
fainted  away. 

At  this  moment  the  bell  rang. 

"  That's  for  you.  Job  Trotter,"  said  Sam  ;  and  before  Mr.  Trotter 
could  offier  remonstrance  or  reply — even  before  he  had  time  to  stanch 
the  wounds  inflicted  by  the  insensible  lady — Sam  seized  one  arm  and 
Mr.  Muzzle  the  other  ;  and  one  pulling  before,  and  the  other  pushing 
behind,  they  conveyed  him  up  stairs,  and  into  the  parlour. 

It  was  an  impressive  tableau.  Alfred  Jingle,  Esquire,  alias  Captain 
Fitzmarshall,  was  standing  near  the  door  with  his  hat  on  his  head,  and 
a  smile  on  his  face,  wholly  unmoved  by  his  very  unpleasant  situation. 
Confronting  him,  stood  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  had  evidently  been  incul- 
cating some  high  moral  lesson,  for  his  left  hand  was  beneath  his  coat 
tail,  and  his  right  extended  in  air,  as  was  his  wont  when  delivering 
himself  of  an  impressive  address.  At  a  little  distance  stood  .Mr.  Tup- 
man  with  indignant  countenance,  carefully  held  back  by  his  two  younger 
friends  :  and  at  the  further  end  of  the  ro  mi  were  .Mr.  Nupkins,  Mrs. 
IS'upkins,  and  Miss  IVupkins,  gloomily  grand  and  savagely  vexed. 

"  What  prevents  me,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  with  magisterial  dignity, 
as  Job  was  brought  in — "  what  prevents  me  from  detaining  those  men 
as  roijues  and  imposters  ?     It  is  a  foolish  mercy.     What  prevents  me  ?" 

"  Pride,  old  fellow,pride,"  replied  Jingle,  quite  at  his  ease  "  Would'nt 
do — no  go — caught  a  captain,  eh? — ha!  ha  !— very  good — husband 
for  daughter — biter  bit — make  it  public — not  for  worlds — look  stupid 
— very  I'' 

"Wretch,"  said  Mrs.  Nupkins,  "we  scorn  your  base  insinuations." 

"  I  always  hated  him,"  added  Henrietta. 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  Jingle.  "  Tall  young  man — old  lover — Sid- 
ney Porkenham — rich — fine  fellow — not  so  rich  as  captain,  though, 
eh  1 — turn  him  away — off  with  him — any  thing  for  captain — nothing 
like  captain  any  where — all  the  girls  raving  mad — eh,  Job,  eh  !" 

Here  Mr,  Jingle  laughed  very  heartily  ;  and  Job,  rubbing  his  hands 
with  delight,  uttered  the  first  sound  he  had  given  vent  to,  since  he  en- 
tered the  house — a  low  noiseless  chuckle,  which  seemed  to  intimate 
that  he  enjoyed  his  laugh  too  much,  to  let  any  of  it  escape  in  sounds. 

"  .Mr.  IS'upkins,"  said  the  elder  lady,  "this  is  not  a  fit  conversation 
for  the  servants  to  overhear.     Let  these  wretches  be  removed  " 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins.     "Muzzle." 

"Your  worship." 

"  Open  the  front  door,"' 


856  POSTHUMOUS    PAPERS    OT 

♦'Yes,  vour  worship." 

'« Leave  the  house,"  said  Mr.  Nupkins,  waving  his  hand  emphaticallj. 

Jiriijlc  smiled  and  moved  towards  the  door. 

"  Stay,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Jingle  stopped. 

"  I  mig^frt,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  have  taken  a  much  greater  revenge 
for  the  treatment  I  have  experienced  at  your  hands,  and  that  of  your 
hypocriticf&l  friend  there." 

flere  Job  Trotter  bowed  with  great  politeness,  and  laid  his  hand 
upon  his  heart. 

"  I  say,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  growing  gradually  angry,  "  that  I  might 
have  taken  a  greater  revenge,  but  I  content  myself  with  exposing  you, 
which  I  consider  a  duty  I  owe  to  society.  This  is  a  leniency,  sir, 
which  I  hope  you  will  remember." 

When  Mr.  JPickwick  arrived  at  this  point,  Job  Trotter,  with  facetious 
gravity,  applied  his  hand  to  his  ear,  as  if  desirous  not  to  lose  a  syllable 
he  uttered. 

'*  And  1  have  only  to  add,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  now  thoroughly 
angry,  "  that  I  ^-consider  you  a  rascal,  and  a — a  ruffian — and — and 
worse  than  any  man  I  ever  saw,  or  heard  of,  except  that  very  pious 
and  sanctified  vagabond  in  the  mulberry  livery." 

"  Ha  !  ha  I"  said  Jingle,  "  good  fellow  Pickwick, — fine  heart — stout 
old  boy — but  must  not  be  passionate — bad  thing,  very — bye,  bye — see 
you  atrain  some  day — keep  up  your  spirits — now  Job — trot." 

With  these  words,  Mr.  Jingle  stuck  on  his  hat  in  his  old  fashion,  and 
strode  out  of  the  room.  Job  Trotter  paused,  looked  round,  smiled,  and 
then  with  a  bow  of  mock  solemnity  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  a  wink  to 
Mr.  Weller,  the  audacious  slyness  of  which  baffles  all  description, 
followed  the  footsteps  of  his  hopeful  master. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  Mr.  Weller  was  following. 

"  Sir.'- 

«  Stay  here." 

Mr.  Weller  seemed  uncertain. 

"  Stay  here,"  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Mayn't  I  polish  that  ere  Job  off,  in  the  front  garden?"  said  Mr. 
W^eller. 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick. 

^'  Mayn't  I  kick  him  out  o'  the  gate,  sir  ?"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Not  on  any  account,"  replied  his  master. 

Fbr  the  first  time  since  his  engagement,  Mr.  Weller  looked  for 
a  moment  discontented  and  unhappy.  But  his  countenance  im- 
mediately cleared  up,  for  the  wily  Mr.  Muzzle,  by  concealing  himself 
behind  the  street  door,  and  rushing  violently  out,  at  the  right  instant, 
contrived  with  great  dexterity  to  overturn  both  Mr.  Jingle  and  his  attend- 
ant, down  the  flight  of  steps,  into  the  American  aloe  tubs  that  stood 
her^eath. 

"  Having  discharged  my  duty,  sir,*'  said  Mr.  Pickwick  to  Mr.  Nup- 
kins, "  I  will  with  my  friends,  bid  you  farewell.  While  we  thank  you 
for  such  hospitality  as  we  have  received,  permit  me  to  assure  you  in 
our  joint  names  that  we  should  not  have  accepted  it,  or  consented  to 
extricate  ourselves  in  this  way  from  our  previous  dilemma^  had  we  not 
been  impelled  by  a  strong  sense  of  duty.  We  return  to  London  to- 
morrow.    Your  secret  is  safe  with  us." 

Having  thus  entered  his  protest  agevinst  their  treatment  of  the  mom- 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  257 

ing,  Mr.  Pickwick  bowed  low  to  the  ladies  ;  and  notwithstanding  the 
solicitations  of  the  family,  left  the  room  with  his  friends. 

"  Get  your  hat,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*«  It's  below-stairs,  sir,"  said  Sam,  and  he  ran  (-own  after  it. 

Now  there  was  nobody  in  the  kitchen  but  the  pretty  housemaid ; 
and  as  Sam's  hat  was  mislaid  he  had  to  look  for  it,  and  the  pretty  house- 
maid lighted  him.  They  had  to  look  all  over  the  place  for  the  hat  ; 
and'the  pretty  housemaid,  in  her  anxiety  to  find  it,  went  down  on  her 
knees,  and  turned  over  all  the  things  that  were  heaped  together  in  a 
little  corner  by  the  door.  It  was  an  awkward  corner.  You  couldn't 
get  at  it  without  shutting  the  door  first. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  the  pretty  housemaid.     "  This  is  it,  ain't  it  V 

*'  Let  me  look,"  said  Sara. 

The  pretty  housemaid  had  stood  the  candle  on  the  floor  ;  and  as  it 
gave  a  very  dim  light,  Sam  was  obliged  to  go  down  on  his  knees  before 
he  could  see  whether  it  really  was  his  own  hat  or  not.  It  was  a  re- 
markably small  corner,  and  so — it  was  nobody's  fault  but  the  man's 
who  built  the  house — Sam  and  the  pretty  housemaid  were  necessarily 
very  close  together. 

"  Yes^  this  is  it,"  said  Sam.     "  Good  bye." 

"  Good  bye,"  said  the  pretty  housemaid. 

"  Good  bye,"  said  Sam  ;  and  as  he  said  it,  he  dropped  the  hat  that 
had  cost  so  much  trouble  looking  for. 

"  How  awkward  you  are,  said  the  pretty  housemaid.  "  You'll  lose 
it  again,  if  you  don't  take'care." 

So  just  to  prevent  his  losing  it  again,  she  put  it  on  for  him. 

Whether  it  was  that  the  pretty  housemaid's  face  looked  prettier  still 
when  it  was  raised  towards  Sam's,  or  whether  it  was  the  accidental 
consequence  of  their  being  so  near  each  other,  is  matter  of  uncertainty 
to  this  day,  but  Sam  kissed  her. 

<'  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  did  that  on  purpose,"  said  the  pretty 
housemaid,  blushing. 

"  No,  I  didn't  then,"  said  Sam  ;  *•  but  I  will  now." 

So  he  kissed  her  again. 

"  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  calling  ovejr  the  banisters. 

*  Coming,  sir,"  replied  Sam,  running  up  stairs. 

"How  long  you  have  been,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"There  was  something  behind  the  door,  sir,  which  perwented  our 
getting  it  open,  for  ever  so  long,"  replied  Sam. 

And  this  was  the  first  passage  of  Mr.Weller's  first  love. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

WHICH  CONTAINS  A  BRIEF  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  PROGRESS  OV  THE  ACTION 
OK  BARUELL  AGAINST  PICKWICK. 

Havino  accomplished  the  main  end  and  object  of  his  journey  by  the 

e.\posurc  of  Jingle,  Mr.  Pickwick   resolved   on   immediately  returning 

to  London,  with  the  view  of  becoming  acquainted  with  the  proceedings 

which  had  been  taken  against  him,  in  the  mean  time,  by  Messrs.  Dod- 

"2* 


258  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

son  and  Fogg.  Acting  upon  this  resdution,  with  all  the  energy  and 
decision  of  his  character,  he  mounted  to  the  back  seat  of  the  first 
coach  which  left  Ipswich,  on  the  morning  after  the  memorable  occur- 
rences detailed  at  le;-gth  in  the  iwo  preceding  chapters  ;  and  accom- 
panied by  his  three  friends  and  Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  arrived  in  the 
metropolis  in  perfect  health  and  safety,  the  same  evening. 

Here  the  friends,  for  a  short  time,  separated.  Messrs.  Tupman, 
Winkle,  and  Snodgrass,  repaired  to  their  several  homes,  to  make  such 
preparations  as  might  be  requisite  for  their  forthcoming  visit  to  Ding- 
leyDell  ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  took  up  their  present  abode  in 
very  good,  old-fashioned,  and  comfortable  quarters,  to  wit,  the  George 
and'  Vulture  Tavern  and  Hotel,  George  Yard,  Lombard  Street. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  dined,  finished  his  second  pint  of  particular  port, 

pulled  his  silk  handkerchief  over  his  head,  put  his  feet  on  the  fender, 

and  thrown  himself  back  in  an  easy  chair,  when  the  entrance  of  Mr. 

"Weller,  with  his  carpet  bag,  aroused  him  from  his  tranquil  meditations. 

•'  Sam."  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  I  have  just  been  thinking,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "that having 
left  a  good  many  things  at  Mrs.  Bardell's,  in  Goswell  street,  I  ouglU 
to  arrange  for  taking  them  away,  before  I  leave  town  again." 
••  Worry  good,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  I  could  send  them  to  Mr.  Tupman's  for  the  present,  Sam,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Pickwick,  '•  but,  before  we  take  them  away,  it  is  necessary 
that  they  should  be  looked  up,  and  put  together.     I  wish  you  would 
step  up  to  Goswell  street,  Sam,  and  arrange  about  it." 
"  At  once,  sir  •"  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"  At  once,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  And  stay,  Sam,**  added  Mr. 
Pickwick,  pulliag  out  his  purse,  "  There  is  some  rent  to  pay.  The 
quarter  is  not  due  till  Christmas,  but  you  may  pay  it,  and  have  done 
with  it.  A  month's  notice  terminates  my  tenantcy.  Here  it  is,  written 
out.  Give  it,  and  tell  Mrs.  Bardell  she  may  put  a  bill  up  as  soon  as 
she  likes." 

"  Werry  good,  sir."  replied  Mr.  Weller  ;  *'  any  thin'  more*,  sir  1" 
"Nothing  more>  Sam." 

Mr.  Weller  stepped  slowly  to  the  door,  as  if  he  expected  something 
farther  ;  slowly  opened  it,  slowly  stepped  out,  and  had  slowly  closed  it 
within  a  couple  of  inches,  when  Mr.  Pickwick  called  oat — 
"  Sam." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mr.  W^eller,  stepping  quickly  back,  and  closing  the 
door  behind  him. 

"  I  have  no  objection,  Sam,  to  your  endeavouring  to  ascertain  how 
Mrs.  Bardell  herself  seems  disposed  toward  me,  and  whether  it  is 
really  probable  that  this  vile  aiid  groundless  action  is  to  be  carried  to  ex- 
tremity. I  say  I  do  not  object  to  your  doing  this,  if  you  wish  it,  Sam;" 
said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

Sam.;gave  a  short  nod  of  intelligence,  and  left  the  room.  Mr.  Pick- 
wick drew  the  silk  handkerchief  once  more  over  his  head,  and  com- 
posed himself  for  a  nap  ;  Mr.  Weller  promptly  walked  forth  to  execute 
his  commission. 

It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  when  he  reached  Goswell  street.  A  cou- 
ple of  candles  were  burning  in  the  little  front  parlour,  and  a  couple  of 
caps  were  reflected  on  the  window-blind.  Mrs.  Bardell  had  got  com- 
pany. 


THK    PICKWICX    CL0B.  259 

Mr.  Weller  knocked  at  the  door,  and  after  a  pretty  long  interval — 
occupied  by  the 'party  without  in  whistling  a  tune,  and  by  the  party 
within  in  persuading  a  refractory  flat  candle  to  allow  itself  to  be  li^jhled 
—  a  pair  of  small  boots  pattered  over  the  floor-cloth,  and  Master  Bardell 
presented  himself 

*'  Veil,  young  townskip,"  said  Sam,  "  how's  mother  ?" 

**  She's  pretty  well,"  replied  Master  Bardcll,  "  so  am  I."^ 

"  Veil,  that's  a  mercy,"  said  Sam  ;  '*tell  her  I  want  ta  speak  to  her, 
my  hinfant  fernomenon." 

Master  Bardell,  thus  adjured,  placed  the  refractory  flat  candle  on  the 
bottom  stair,  and  vanished  into  the  front  parlour  with  his  message. 

The  two  caps  reflected  on  the  window-blind,  were  the  respective 
headdresses  of  a  couple  of  Mrs.  Bardell'*  most  particular  acquaintance, 
who  had  just  stepped  in  to  have  a  quiet  cup  of  tea,  and  a  little  warm 
supper  of  a  couple  of  sets  of  pettitoes  and  some  toasted  cheese.  The 
chee*e  was  sin.mering  and  browning  away  most  delightfully  in  a  little 
Dutch  oven  before  tlie  fire,  and  the  pettitoes  were  getting  on  deliciously 
in  a  little  tin  saucepan  on  the  hob;  and  Mrs.  Bardell  and  her  two  friends 
were  getting  on  \CTy  well  also,  in  a  little  quiet  conv(?rsation  about  and 
concerning  all  their  particular  friends  and  acquaintance,  when  Master 
Bardell  came  ba^ck  from  answering  the  door,  and  delivered  the  message 
intrusted  to  him  by  Mr.  Samuel  Weller. 

"  M-.  Pickwick's  servant !"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  turning  pale; 

"  Bless  my  soul  I"  .said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

•'  Well,  I  raly  would  not  ha'  believed  it,  unless  I  had  ha'  happened 
to  ha'  been  here  !"  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

Mrs.  Cluppins  was  a  little  brisk,  busy-looking  woman  :  and  Mrs. 
Sanders  was  a  big,  fat,  heav\'-faced  personage  ;  and  the  two  were  the 
company. 

Mrs.  Bardell  felt  it  proper  'o  be  agitated  ;  and  as  none  of  the  three 
exactly  knew  whether,  under  existing  circumstances,  any  communica- 
tion, otherwise  than  through  Dodson  and  Fogg,  ought  to  be  held  with 
Mr.  Pickwick's  servant,  they  were  all  rather  taken  by  surprise.  Ii> 
this  state  of  indecision,  obviously  the  first  thing  to  be  done  was  ta 
thump  the  boy  for  finding  Mr.  Weller  at  the  door.  So  his  mother 
thumped  him,  and  he  cried  iflelodiously. 

"  Hold  your  noise — do — you  naughty  creature,"  said  Mrs.  BardelK 

"Yes,  don't  worrit  your  poor  mother,"'  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"  She's  quite  enough  to  worrit  her,  as  it  is,  without  you,  Tommy,"" 
said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  with  sympathizing  resignation. 

"  Ah  I  worse  luck,  poor  lamb  !"  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

At  all  which  moral  reflections.  Master  Bardell  howled  the  louder. 

"Now,  what  shall  1  do  !"  said  Mrs.  Bardell  to  Mrs,  Cluppins. 

•'  /  think  you  ought  to  see  him,"  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins.  "  But  oh. 
no  account  without  a  witness." 

"  /  think  two  witnesses  would  be  more  lawful,"  said  Mrs.  Sanders, 
who,  like  the  other  friend,  was  bursting  with  curiosity. 

''  Perhaps,  he'd  better  come  in  here,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell. 

'•  To  be  sure,"  replied  Mrs.  Cluppins,  eagerly  catching  at  the  idea — 
"  Walk  in,  young  man  ;   and  shut  th^  street  door  first,  please." 

Mr.  Weller  immediately  took  the  hint ;  and  presenting  himself  in 
the  parlour,  explained  his  business  to  Mrs.  Bardell,  thus — 

•'  Worry  sorry  to  'casion  any  personal  inconwc-nience,  ma'am,  as  the 
housebreaker  said  to  the  old  lady  vhcn  he  put  her  on  the  fire  ;  but  as 


260  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS  OF 

me  and  my  governor's  only  just  come  to  town,  and  is  just  going  away 
agin,  it  can't  be  helped  you  see." 

"  Of  course,  the  young  man  can't  help  the  faults  of  his  master," 
said  Mrs.  Cluppiiis,  much  struck  by  Mr.  Weller's  appearance  and 
conversation. 

"  Certainly  not,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Sanders, 'who,  from  certain  wistful 
glances  at  the  little  tii)  saucepan,  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  a  mental 
calculation  of  the  probable  extent  of  the  pettitoes,  in  the  event  of  Sam's 
being  asked  to  stop  supper. 

"  So  all  I've  come  about,  is  just  this  here,"  said  Sam,  disregarding 
the  interruption — "  First,  to  give  my  governor's  notice — there* it  is. 
Secondly,  to  pay  the  rent — here  it  is.  Thirdly,  to  say  as  all  his  things 
is  to  be  put  together,  and  given  to  any  body  as  we  sends  for  'em. 
Fourthly,  that  you  may  let  the  place  as  soon  as  you  like — and  that's  all." 

"  Whatever  has  happened,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  "  I  always  have  said 
and  always  will  say,  that  in  every  respect  but  one,  Mr.  Pickwick  has 
always  behaved  himself  like  a  perfect  gentleman.  His  money  always 
was  as  good  as  the  bank — always." 

As  Mrs.  Bardell  said  this,  she  applied  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes, 
and  went  out  of  the  room  to  get  the  receipt. 

Sam  well  knew  that  he  had  only  to  remain  quiet,  and  the  women 
•were  sure  to  talk  ;  so  he  looked  alternately  at  the  tin  saucepan,  the 
toasted  cheese,  the  wall,  and  the  ceiling,  in  profound  silence. 

"  Poor  dear  !"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

**  Ah,  poor  thing  !"  replied  Mrs.'  Sanders. 

Sam  said  nothing.     He  saw  they  were  coming  to  the  subject. 

"  I  raly  cannot  contain  myself,"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  '*  when  I  think 
of  such  perjury.  I  don't  wish  to  say  any  thing  to  make  you  uncom- 
fortable, young  man,  but  your  master's  an  old  brute,  and  I  wish  I  had 
him  here  to  tell  him  so." 

"  I  vish  you  had,"  said  Sam. 

"  To  see  how  dreadful  she  takes  on,  going  moping  about,  and  taking 
no  pleasure  in  nothing,  except  when  her  friends  comes  in,  out  of  charity, 
to  sit  with  her,  and  make  her  comfortable,"  resumed  Mrs.  Cluppins, 
glancing  at  the  tin  saucepan  and  the  Dutch  oven,  "  it's  shocking." 

"  Barbareous,"  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"  And  your  master,  young  man,  a  gentleman  with  money,  as  could 
never  feel  the  expense  of  a  wife,  no  more  than  nothing,"  continued 
Mrs.  Cluppins,  with  great  volubility  ;  ''  Why  there  ain't  the  faintest 
shade  of  an  excuse  for  his  behaviour.     Why  don't  he  marry  her  ?" 

"  Ah,"  said  Sam,  "to  be  sure  ;  that's  the  question." 

'♦  Question,  indeed,"  retorted  Mrs.  Cluppins  ;  *'  she'd  question  him, 
if  she'd  my  spirits.  Hows'ever,  there  is  law  for  us  women,  mis'rable. 
creeturs  as  they'd  make  us,  if  they  could  ;  and  that  your  master  will 
find  out,  young  man,  to  his  cost,  afore  he'b  six  months  older." 

At  this  consolatory  reflection,  Mrs.  Cluppins  bridled  up^  and  smiled 
at  Mrs.  Sanders,  who  smiled  back  again. 

"  The  action's  going  on,  and  no  mistake,"  thought  Sam,  as  Mrs. 
Bardell  re-entered  with  the  receipt. 

"  Here's  the  receipt,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  "  and  here's 
the  change,  and  I  hope  you'll  take  a  little  drop  of  something  to  keep 
the  cold  out,  if  it's  only  for  old  acquaintance'  sak^,  Mr.  Weller." 

Sam  saw  the  advantage  he  should  gain,  and  at  once  acquiesced, 
whereupon  Mrs.  Bardell  produced  from  a  small  closet  a  black  bottle 


THE  PICKWICK  CLCB.  261 

and  a  wine-glass,  and  so  great  was  her  abstraction  in  her  deep  menLal- 
afHiction,  that,  after  filling  Mr.  Welier's  glass,  she  brought  out  three 
more  wine-glasses,  and  filled  them  too. 

'•  Lauk,  Mrs.  Bardell,"  said  Mrs.  Cluppins,  "see  what  you've  been 
and  done." 

'•  Well,  that  is  a  good  one  !"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"  Ah,  my  poor  head  !"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  with  a  faint  smile. 

Sam  un<lerstood  all  this,  of  course,  so  he  said  at  once,  that  he  never 
could  drink  before  supper,  unless  a  lady  drank  with  him.  A  great  deal 
of  laughing  ensued,  and  then  Mrs.  Sanders  volunteered  to  humour 
him  ;  so  she  took  a  slight  sip  out  of  her  glass.  Then  Sam  said  it  must 
go  all  round,  so  they  all  took  a  slight  sip.  Then  little  .^Irs.  Cluppins 
proposed  as  a  toast,  "  Success  to  Bardel]  against  Pickwick  ;"  and  then 
the  ladies  emptied  their  glasses  in  honour  of  the  sentiment,,  and  got 
%ery  talkative  directly. 

"  I  suppose  you've  heard  what's  going  forward,  Mr.  Waller,"  said 
Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  Ive  heard  something  on  it,"  replied  Sam. 

"  It's  a  terrible  thing  to  be  dragged  before  the  public,  in  that  way, 
Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mrs  Bardell;  "but  I  see  now,  that  it's  the  only 
thing  I  ought  to  do,  and  my  lawyers,  Mr.  Dodson  and  Fogg,  tell  me 
that,  with  the  evidence  as  we  shall  call,  we  m"ust  succeed.  I  don't 
know  what  I  should  do,  Mr.  Weller,  if  I  didnt." 

The  mere  idea  of  .Mrs.  Bardell's  failing  in  her  action,  affected  Mrs. 
Sanders  so  deeply,  that  she  was  under  the  necessity  of  re-fi!ling  and 
rc-emptying  her  glass  immediately  ;  feeling,  as  she  said  afterward,  that 
if  she  hadn't  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  have  done  so,  she  must  have 
dropped. 

"  Ven  is  it  expected  to  come  on  T'  inquired  Sam. 

"  Either  in  February  or  March,"  replied  Mrs.  Bardell.  ^ 

"  What  a  number  of  witnesses  there'll  be,  wont  thjere?"  said  Mrs. 
Cluppins. 

"  Ah,  won't  there  !"  replied  .Mrs.  Sanders. 

"  And  won't  .Mr.  Dodson  and  Fogg  be  wild  if  the  plaintiflf  shouldn't 
get  it  ?"  added  .Vlrs.  Cluppins,  "  when  they  do  it  all  on  speculation  !" 

"  Ah  !  won't  they  !"  said  Mrs.  Sanders. 

"But  the  the  plaintiff  must  get  it,"  resumed  Mrs.  Cluppins. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  .Mrs.  Bardell. 

"  Oh,  there  can't  be  any  doubt  about  it,"  rejoined  Mrs,  Sanders. 

"Veil,"  said  Sam,  rising  and  setting  down  his  glass.  "All  I  can 
say  is,  that  I  vish  you  may  get  it." 

"  Thank'ee,  Mr.  Weller,"  said  Mrs.  Bardell,  fervently. 

"  And  of  them  Dodson  and  Fogg,  as  does  these  sort  a'  things  on 
spec,"  continued  Mr.  Weller,  "as  veil  as  for  the  other  kind  and  gen'- 
rous  people  o'  the  same  purfession,  as  sets  people  by  the  ears  free  gratis 
for  nothin',  and  sets  their  clerks  to  work  to  find  out  little  disputes 
among  their  neighbours  and  acquaintance  as  vants  settlin'  by  means  o' 
lawsuits — all  I  can  say  o'  them  is,  that  I  vi.^h  they  had  the  revard  I'd 
give  'em." 

"  Ah,  I  wish  they  had  the  reward  that  every  kind  and  generous  heart 
would  be  inclined  to  bestow  upon  them,"  said  the  gratified  Mrs  Bardell. 
"  Amen  to  that,"  replied   Sam.  "  and  a  fat  and  happy  livin'  they'd 
get  out  of  it.     Vish  you  good  night,  ladies. 

To  the  grej^t  relief  of  .\lrs.  Sanders,  Sam  was  allowed  to  depart,  with- 


262  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  Of 

out  any  reference  on  the  part  of  the  hostess  to  the  pettitoes  and  toasted 
cheese,  to  which  the  ladies,  with  such  juvenile  assistance  as  Master 
Bardell  could  afford,  soon  afterward  rendered  the  amplest  justice — in- 
deed they  wholly  vanished,  hefore  their  strenuous  exertions. 

Mr.  Wellcr  wended  his  way  back  to  the  George  and  Vulture,  and 
faithfully  recounted  to  his  master,  such  indications  of  the  sharp  prac- 
tice oCDodson  and  Fogg,  as  he  had  contrived  to  pick  up  in  his  visit  to 
Mrs  Bardcll's.  An  interview  with  Mr.  Pcrker  next  day,  more  than 
confirmed  Mr  Wellcr's  statement  ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick  was  fain  to  pre- 
pare for  his  Christmas  visit  to  Dingley  Dell,  with  the  pleasant  antici- 
pation that  some  two  or  three  months  afterwards,  an  action  brought 
against  him  for  damages  sustained  hy  reason  of  a  breach  of  promise  of 
marriatre,  would  be  publicly  tried  in  the  court  of  Common  Pleas;  the 
plaintiff  having  all  tlie  advantages  derivable  not  only  from  the  force  of 
circumstances,  but  from  the  sharp  practice  of  Dodson  and  Fogg  to  boot. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SAMUEL  WELLER    MAKES  A  PILGR1M.4.GE    TO    DORKINO,  AND    BEHOLDS    HIS 
MOTHER-IN-LAW. 

There  still  remaining  an  interval  of  two  days,  before  the  time  agreed 
upon  for  the  departure  of  the  Pickwickians  to  Dingley  Dell,  Mr.  Weller 
sat  himself  down  in  the  back  room  at  the  George  and  Vulture,  after 
eating  an  early  dinner,  to  muse  on  the  best  way  of  disposing  of  his  time. 
It  was  a  remarkably  fine  day  ;  and  he  had  not  turned  the  matter  over 
in  his  mind  ten  minutes,  when  he  was  suddenly  struck  filial  and  affec- 
tionate ;  and  it  occurred  to  him  so  strongly  that  he  ought  to  go-dowm 
to  see  his  father,  and  pay  his  duty  to  his  mother-in-law,  that  he  was 
lost  in  astonishment  at  his  own  remissness  in  never  thinking  of  this 
moral  obligation  before.  Anxious  to  atone  for  his  past  neglect  without 
another  hour's  delay,  he  straightway  walked  up  stairs  to  Air.  Pickwick, 
.and  requested  leave  of  absence  for  this  laudable  purpose. 

"  Certainly,  Sam,  certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  his  eyes  glistening 
with  delight  at  xhis  manifestation  of  good  feeling  on  the  part  of  his 
attendant:  "  certainly,  Sam." 

Mr.  Weller  made  a  grateful  bow. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  that  you  have  so  high  a  sense  of  your  duties 
as  a  son,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  I  always  had,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

*'  That's  a  very  gratifying  reflection,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  ap» 
provinoly. 

"  Werry,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller  ;  "  if  ever  I  vanted  any  thin'  o'  my 
father,  I  always  asked  for  it  in  a  werry  'spectful  and  obligin'  manner. 
If  he  didn't  give  it  me,  I  took  it,  for  fear  I  should  be  led  to  do  any  thin' 
wrone,  through  not  havin'  it.   I  saved  him  a  world  o'  trouble  this  vay,  sir.'* 

"  That's  not  precisely  what  I  meant,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  shak- 
ing his  head,  with  a  slight  smile. 

*'  All  good  feelin'  sir — the  werry  best  intentions,  as  the  gen'lm'n  said 
ven  he  run  away  from  his  wife,  'cos  she  seemed  unhappy  with  him," 
replied  Mr.  Weller. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  263 

*'  You  may  go,  Sam,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Thank'ee,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller  ;  and  having  made  his  best  bow, 
and  put  on  his  best  clothes,  Sam  planted  himself  on  the  top  of  the  Arun- 
del coach,  and  journeyed  on  to  Dorking. 

The  Marquis  of  Granby,  in 'Mrs.  teller's  time,  was  quite  a  model 
of  a  road-side  public  house  of  the  better  class —just  large  enough  to  be 
convenient,  and  small  enough  to  be  snug.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Toad  was  a  large  sign-board  on  a  high  post,  representing  the  head  and 
shoulders  of  a  gentleman  with  an  apoplectic  countenance,  in  a  redcoat, 
with  deep  blue  facings^nd  a  touch  of  the  same  over  his  three-cornered 
hat,  for  a  sky.  Over  rnat,  again,  were  a  paif  of  flags,  and  beneath  thfi 
last  button  of  his  coat  were  a  couple  of  cannon  ;  and  the  whole  formed 
an  exj)ressive  and  undoubted  likeness  of  the  Marquis  i*f  Granby  of  glo- 
rious memory.  The  bar  window  displayed  a  choice  collection  of  gera- 
nium plants,  and  a  well-dusted  row  of  spirit  phials.  The  open  shut- 
ters bore  a  variety  of  golden  inscriptions,  eulogistic  of  good  beds  and 
neat  wines  ;  and  the  choice  group  of  countrymen  and  hostlers  loun- 
ging about  the  stable-door  and  horse-trough,  afforded  presumptive  proof 
of  the  excellent  quality  of  the  ale  and  spirits  which  were  sold  within. 
Sam  Weller  paused,  when  he  dismounted  from  the  coach,  to  note  all 
these  little  indications  of  a  thriving  business,  with  the  eye  of  an  expe- 
rienced traveller  ;  and  having  done  so,  stepped  in  at  once,  highly  satis- 
lied  with  every  thing  he  had  observed. 

"  Now^  then,"  said  a  shrill  female  voice,  the  instant  Sam  thrust  in 
his  head  at  tlie  door,  "what  do  you  want,  younfj  man." 

Sam  looked  round  in  the  direction  whence  the  voice  proceeded.  It 
came  from  rather  a  stout  lady,  of  comfortable  appearance,  who  was 
seated  beside  the  fire-place  in  the  bar,  blowing  the  fire,  to  make  the 
kettle  boil  for  tea.  She  was  not  alone,  for  on  the  other  sitleof  the  fire- 
place, sitting  bolt  upright  in  a  high-backed  chair,  was  a  man  in  thread- 
bare black  clothes,  with  a  back  almost  as  long  and  stiff  as  that  of  the 
chair  itself,  who  caught  Sam's  most  particular  and  especial  attention 
at  once. 

He  was  a  prim-faced,  red-nosed  man,  with  a  long  thin  countenance, 
and  a  semi-rattlesnake  sort  of  eye — rather  sharp,  but  decidedly  bad. 
He  wore  very  short  trousers,  and  black  cotton  stockings,  which,  like 
the  rest  of  his  apparel,  were  particularly  rusty.  His  looks  were 
starched,  but  his  white  neckerchief  was  not ;  and  its  long  limp  ends 
straggled  over  his  closely-buttoned  waistcoat,  in  a  very  uncouth  and 
unpicturesque  fashion.  A  pair  of  old,  worn,  beaver  gloves,  a  broad- 
brimmed  hat,  and  a  faded  green  umbrella,  with  plenty  of  whalebone 
sticking  through  the  bottom,  as  if  to  counterbalance  the  want  of  a 
handle  at  the  top,  lay  on  a  chair  beside  him  ;  and  being  disposed  in  a 
very  tidy  and  careful  manner,  seemed  to  imply  that  the  red-nosed  man, 
whoever  he  was,  had  no  intention  of  going  away  in  a  hurry. 

To  do  the  red-nosed  man  justice,  he  would  have  been  very  far  from 
wise  if  he  had  entertained  any  such  intention  ;  for,  to  judge  from  all 
appearances,  he  must  have  been  po.ssesscd  of  a  mrst  desirable  circle  of 
acquaintance,  if  he  could  have  reasonably  expected  to  be  more  comfort- 
able any  where  else.  The  fire  was  blazing  brightly,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  bellows,  and  the  kettle  was  singing  gaily,  under  the  influence 
of  both.  A  small  tray  of  tea-things  was  arranged  on  the  table  ;  a 
plate  of  hot  buttered  toast  was  gently  simmering  before  the  fire  ;  and 
the  red-nosed  man  himself  was  busily  engaged  in  converting  a  large. 


264  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

slice  of  bread  into  the  same  agreeable  edible,  through  the  instrumental- 
ity of  a  long  brass  toasting-fork.  Beside  him,  stood  a  glass  of  reekinw 
hot  pine-a|)ple  rum  and  water,  with  a  slice  of  lemon  in  it;  and  every 
time  the  red-nosed  man  stopped  to  bring  the  round  of  bread  to  his  eye, 
with  the  view  of  ascertaining  how  it  got  on,  he  imbibed  a  drop  or  two 
of  the  hot  |»ine-apple  rum  and  water,  and  smiled  upon  the  rather  stout 
lady,  as  she  blew  the  fire, 

Sam  was  so  lost  in  the  contemplation  of  this  comfortable  scene, 
that  he  suffered  the  first  inquiry  of  the  rather  stout  lady  to  pass  wholly 
unheeded.  It  was  not  until  it  had  been  twice  repeated,  each  time  in  a 
shriller  tone,  that  he  became  conscious  of  th%  impropriety  of  his  be- 
haviour. 

"  Governor  in  ?"  inquired  Sam,  in  reply  to  the  question. 

*'  No,  he  isn't,"  replied  Mrs.  Weller,  for  the  rather  stout  lady  was 
no  other  than  the  quondam  relict  and  sole  executrix  of  the  dead  and 
gone  Mr   Clarke  ; — "  No,  he  isn't,  and  I  don't  expect  him  either." 

*'  I  suppose  he's  a  drivin'  up  to-day  1"  said  Sam. 

*'  He  may  be,  or  he  may  not,"  replied  Mrs.  Weller,  buttering  the 
round  of  toast  vvliich  the  red-nosed  man  had  just  finished  ;  '*  I  don't 
know,  and,  what's  more  I  don't  care.     Ask  a  blessin',  Mr.  Stiggins. " 

The  red-nosed  man  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  instantly  commenced 
on  the  toast  with  fierce  voracity. 

The  appearance  of  the  red-nosed  man  had  induced  Sam,  at  first 
sight,  to  more  than  half  suspect  that  he  was  the  deputy  shepherd,  of 
whom  his  estimable  parent  had  spoken.  The  moment  he  saw  him 
-eat,  all  doubt  on  the  subject  was  removed,  and  he  percei>ted  at  once 
that  if  he  proposed  to  take  up  his  temporary  quarters  where  he  was, 
he  must  make  his  footing  good  without  delay.  He  therefore  com- 
menced proceedings  by  putting  his  arm  over  the  half-door  of  the  bar, 
coolly  unbolting  it,  and  leisurely  walking  in. 

''  Mother-in-law,"  said  Sam,  "  how  are  you  1" 

"  Why,  I  do  believe  he's  a  Weller,"  said  Mrs.  W.,  raising  her  eyes 
to  Sam's  face,  with  no  very  gratified  expression  of  countenance. 

*'  I  rayther  think  he  is,"  said  the  imperturbable  Sam  ;  "  and  I  hope 
this  here  reverend  gen'lm'n  '11  excuse  me  saying  that  I  wish  that  I  was 
the  Weller  that  owns  you,  mother-in-law." 

This  was  a  double-barrel  compliment :  it  implied  that  Mrs.  Weller 
was  a  most  agreeable  female,  and  also  that  Mr.  Stiggins  had  a  clerical 
appearance.  It  made  a  visible  impression  at  once  ;  and  Sam  followed 
up  his  advantage  by  kissing  his  mother-in-law. 

"  Get  along  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Wellei*,  pushing  him  away. 

"  For  shame,  young  man,"  said  the  gentleman  with  the  red  nose. 

"No  ofTence,  sir,  no  offence,''  replied  Sam;  "you're  werry  right, 
though ;  it  ain't  the  right  sort  o'  thing,  ven  mother-in-law  is  young 
and  good-looking,  is  it,  sirl" 

"It's  all  vanity,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins. 

"  Ah,  so  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Weller,  setting  her  cap  to  rights. 

Sam  thought  it  was,  too,  but  he  held  his  peace. 

The  deputy  shepherd  seemed  by  no  means  best  pleased  with  Sam's 
arrival ;  and  when  the  first  effervescence  of  the  compliment  had 
f?ubsided,  even  Mrs*  Weller  looked  as  if  she  could  have  spared  him 
without  the  smallest  inconvenience.  However,  there  he  was  ;  and  as 
he  couldn't  be  decently  turned  out,  they  all  three  sat  down  to  tea. 

"  And  how's  father  1"  said  Sam. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  265 

At  this  inquiry  Mrs.  Wcller  raised  her  hands,  and  tamed  up  her 
eyes,  as  if  the  subject  were  too  painful  to  he  alluded  to. 

Mr.  Stiggins  groaned. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  that  'ere  gen'Im'n  V  inquired  Sam. 

'  He's  shocked  at  the  way  your  father  goes  on  in — ''  replied  Mrs. 
Weller. 

*'  Oh,  he  is,  is  he  I"  said  Sara. 

"And  with  too  good  reason,"  added  Mrs.  Weller,  gravely. 

Mr.  tjtiggins  took  up  a  fresh  piece  of  toast,  and  groaned  heavily. 

*'He  is  a  dreadful  reprobate,"'  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

"A  man  of  wrath  I"  exclained  .Mr.  Stigjriiis.  And  he  tock  a  large 
semi-circular  bite  out  of  the  toast,  and  groaned  again. 

Sam  felt  very  strongly  disposed  to  give  the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins 
something  to  groan  for,  but  he  repressed  his  inclination,  and  merely 
asked,  ••  VV'hat's  the  old  'un  up  to,  now  .'"' 

"  Up  to,  indeed  I"  said  Mrs.  Weller,  ''oh,  he  has  a  hard  heart. 
Night  after  night  does  this  excellent  man — don't  frown,  Mr.  Stiggins, 
I  will  say  you  are  an  excellent  man — come  and  sit  here  for  hours 
together,  ami  it  has  not  the  least  effect  upon  him.'' 

"  Well,  that  is  odd,'  said  Sam  :  "  It  'ud  have  a  werry  considerable 
effect  upon  me,  if  I  wos  in  his  place,  I  know  that." 

*'  The  fact  is,  my  young  friend,"  said  Mr.  Stiggins,  solemnly,  *'  he 
has  an  obdurate  bosom.  Oh,  my  young  friend,  who  else  could  have 
resisted  the  pleading  of  sixteen  of  our  fairest  sisters,  and  withstood 
their  exhortations  to  subscribe  to  our  noble  society  for  providing  the 
infant  negroes  in  the  West  Indies  with  flannel  waistcoats  and  moral 
pocket  handkerchiefs  ]" 

«*  What's  a  moral  pocket  ankercher  ?"  said  Sam  ;  *'  I  never  see  one 
o'  them  articles  of  furniter." 

"  Those  which  combine  amusement  with  instruction,  my  young 
friend,"  replied  Mr.  Stiggins,  "blending  select  talcs  with  wood-cuts." 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  said  Sam,  "  them  as  hangs  up  in  the  linen-drapers' 
shops,  ^ith  beggars'  petitions  and  all  that  "ere  upon  'em  1" 

Mr.  Stiggins  began  a  third  round  of  toast,  and  nod<]e<l  assent. 

*' And  he  wouldn't  be  persuaded  by  the  ladies,  wouldn't  hel"  said  Sam. 

"  Sat  and  smoked  his  pipe,  and  said  the  infant  negroes  were — what 
did  he  say  the  infant  negroes  were  ?''  said  .Mrs.  Weller. 

"  Little  humbugs,''  replied  Mr.  Stiggins,  deeply  affected. 

"  Said  the  infant  negroes  were  little  humbugs,"'  repeated  Mrs.  Weller. 
And  they  both  groaned  ah  the  atrocious  conduct  of  the  elder  .Mr.  Samuel. 

A  great  many  more  iniquities  of  a  similar  nature  might  have  been 
disclosed,  only  the  toast  being  all  eat,  the  tea  having  got  very  weak, 
and  Sam  holding  out  no  indications  of  meaning  to  go,  .Mr.  Stiggins 
suddenly  recollected  that  he  had  a  most  pressing  appomtment  with  the 
shepherd,  and  took  himself  off  accordingly. 

"The  tea-things  had  been  scarcely  put  away,  and  the  hearth  swept 
up,  when  the  London  coach  deposited  Mr.  Weller,  senior,  at  the  door, 
his  legs  deposited  him  in  the  bar,  and  his  eyes  showed  him  his  son. 

"  What,  Sammy  !"  exclaimed  the  father. 

"  What,  old  Nobs  I"  ejaculated  the  son.  And  they  shook  hands 
heartily. 

"  Werry  glad  to  see  you,  Sammy,'  said  the  elder  Mr.  Wcller, 
"though  how  you've  managed  to  get  over  your  mother-in-law,  is  a 
mystery  to  me.     I  only  vish  you'd  write  me  out  the  receipt,  that's  alL" 

Vol.  I.— 23 


266 


POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 


"  Hush  !"  said  Sam,  "she's  at  homo,  old  feller." 

*'  She  ain't  vithin  hearin',''  replied  Mr.  Wcller ;  "  she  always  goes 
arid  blows  up,  down-stairs,  for  a  couple  of  hours  arter  tea ;  .so  we'll 
just  give  ourselves  a  damp,  Sammy." 

Saying  this,  Mr.  Weller  mixed  two  glasses  of  spirits  and  water,  and 
produced  a  couple  of  pipes  ;  and  the  father  and  son  sitting  down  oppo- 
site each  other,  Sam  on  one  side  of  the  fire,  in  the  high-backed  chair, 
and  Mr.  Weller  senior  on  the  other,  in  an  easy  ditto,  they  proceeded  to 
enjoy  themselves  with  all  due  gravity.  ♦. 

"Any  body  been  here,  Sammy!"  asked  Mr.  Weller  senior,  drily, 
after  a  long  silence. 

Sam  nodded  an  expressive  assent. 

*'  Red-nosed  chap  ]"  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

Sam  nodded  again. 

"Amiable  man  that 'ere,  Sammy,"  said  Mr. Weller,  smoking  violently. 

"Seeras  so,"  observed  Sam. 

"  Good  hand  at  accounts,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Is  he  V  said  Sara. 

"Borrows  eighteen-pence  on  Monday,  and  comes  on  Tuesday  for  a 
shillin'  to  make  it  up  half  a  crown  ;  calls  again  on  Vednesday  for  an- 
other half  crown  to  make  it  five  shillin's,  and  goes  on  doubling,  till  he 
•gets  it  up  to  a  rive  pound  note  in  no  time,  like  them  sums  in  the  'rith- 
metic  book  "bout  the  nails  in  the  horse's  shoes,  Sammy." 

Sam  intimated  by  a  nod  that  he  recollected  the  problem  alluded  toby 
his  parent. 

"  So  you  vouldn't  subscribe  to  the  flannel  veskitsl"  said  Sam,  after 
another  interval  of  smoking. 

"  Cert'nly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Weller ;  "what's  the  good  o'  flannel 
veskits  to  the  young  niggars  abroad  ?  But  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is, 
Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  lowering  his  voice,  and  bending  across  the 
fire-place,  "  I'd  come  down  werry  handsome  towards  straight  veskits 
for  some  people  at  home." 

As  Mr.  Weller  said  this,  he  slowly  recovered  his  former  position, 
and  winked  at  hii  first  born  in  a  profound  manner. 

"It  cert'nly  seems  a  queer  start  to  send  out  pocket  ankechers  to 
people  as  don't  know  the  use  on  'em,"  observed  Sam. 

"  They're  alvays  a  doin'  some  gammon  of  that  sort,  Sammy,"  re- 
plied his  father.  "  T'other  Sunday  I  vas  walfLin'  up  the  road,  ven  who 
should  I  see  a  standin'  at  a  chapel-door,  with  a  blue  soup  plate  in  her 
hand,  but  your  mother-in-law.  I  werrily  belifevc  there  was  change  for 
a  couple  o'  suv'rins  in  it  then,  Sammy  all  in  ha'pence  ;  and  as  the  peo- 
ple came  out,  they  rattled  the  pennies  in,  till  you'd  ha'  thought  that  no 
mortal  plate  as  ever  was  baked  could  ha'  stood  the  wear  and  tsar. — 
What  d'ye  thind  it  was  all  for  V 

"  For  another  tea-drinkin',  perhaps,"  said  Sam. 

"  Not  a  bit  on  it,''  replied  the  father  ;  '  for  the  shepherd's  water-rate, 
Sammy." 

"  The  shepherd's  water-rate  !"  said  Sam. 

"  Ay,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  "  there  was  three  quarters  owin',  and  the 
shepherd  hadn't  paid  a  farden,  not  he — perhaps  it  might  be  on  account 
that  the  water  warn't  o'  much  use  to  him,  for  it's  werry  little  o'  that 
tap  he  drinks,  Sammy,  werry ;  he  knows  a  trick  worth  a  good  half 
dozen  of  that,  he  does.     Hows'ever,  it  warn't  paid,  and  so  they  cuts 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  267 

/the  water  off.  Down  goes  the  shepherd  to  chapel,  gives  out  as  he's  d 
persecuted  saint,  and  says  ho  hopes  the  heart  of  the  turncock  as  cut  the 
water  otf  '11  be  softened,  and  turned  in  the  right  vay,  but  he  rather 
thinks  he's  booked  for  somethin'  uncomfortable.  Upon  this,  the  women 
calls  a  meetin',  sings  a  hymn,  wotes  your  mother-in-law  into  the  chair, 
wolunteers  a  collection  next  Sunday,  and  hands  it  all  over  to  the  shep- 
herd. And  if  he  ain't  got  enough  out  on  'em^  Sammy,  to  make  him 
free  of  the  water  company  for  life,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  in  conclusion, 
**rm  one  Dutchman,  and  you're  another,  and  that's  all  about  it." 

Mr.  Weller  smoked  for  some  minutes  in  silence,  and  then  resumed  ; 
*'  The  worst  o'  these  here  shepherds  is,  my  boy,  that  they  reg'larly  turn 
the  heads  of  all  the  young  ladies  about  here.  Why  bless  their  little 
hearts,  they  thinks  it's  all  right,  and  don't  know  no  better  ;  but  they're 
the  wictims  o'  gammon,  Samivel,  they're  the  wictims  o'  gammon." 

*'  I  s'pose  they  are,"  said  Sam. 

"  Nothin'  else,"  said  Mr.  Weller,  shaking  his  head  gravely  ;  "  ami 
wot  aggrawates  me,  Samivel,  is  to  see  'em  a  wastin'  all  their  time  and 
labour  in  making  clothes  for  copper-coloured  people  as  don't  want  'em, 
and  taking  no  notice  of  the  flesh  colouied  Christians  as  do.  If  I'd  my 
vay,  Samivel,  I'd  just  stick  some  o'  these  here  lazy  shepherds  behind  a 
heavy  wheelbarrow,  and  run  'em  up  and  down  a  fourteen  inch  plank  all 
day.     That  'ud  shake  the  nonsense  out  of  'em,  if  any  thin'  vould." 

Mr.  Weller  having  delivered  his  gentle  recipe  with  strong  emphasis, 
eked  out  by  a  variety  of  nods  and  contortions  of  the  eye,  emptied  his 
glass  at  a  draught,  and  knocked  the  aches  out  of  his  pipe  with  native 
dignity. 

He  was  engaged  in  this  operation,  when  a  shrill  voice  was  heard  in 
the  passage. 

"  Here's  your  dear  relation,  Sammy,"  said  Mr.  Weller ;  and  Mrs. 
W.   hurried  into  the  room. 

"  Oh,  you've  come  back,  have  you  !"  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

*'  Yes,  my  dear,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  filling  a  fresh  pipe. 

*' Has  Mr.  Stiggins  been  back  !"  said  Mrs.  Weller. 

"No,  my  dear,  he  hasn't,"  replied  Mr.  Weller,  lifrhting  his  pipe  by 
the  ingenious  process  of  holding  to  the  bowl  thereof,  between  the  tongs 
a  red  hot  coal  from  the  adjacent  fire  ;  "  and  what's  more,  my  dear,  I 
shall  manage  to  surwive  it  if  he  don't  come  back  at  all." 

"Ugh,  you  wretch,  said  .Mrs.  Weller. 

"  Thank'ee,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Weller. 

"Come,  come,  father,"  said  Sam,  none  of  these  little  lovin's  afore 
strangers.     Here's  the  reverend  gen'lm'n  a  comin'  in  now." 

At  this  announcement,  Mrs.  Weller  hastily  wiped  off  the  tears  which 
she  had  just  begun  to  foremen  ;  and  Mr.  W.  drew  his  chair  sullenly 
into  th<*  chimney  corner. 

Mr.  Stiggins  was  easily  prevailed  on  to  take  another  glass  of  the  hot 
pineapple  rum  and  water,  and  a  second,  and  a  third,  and  then  to  refresh 
himself  with  a  slight  supper  previous  to  beginning  again.  He  sat  on 
the  same  side  as  Mr.  Weller,  senior;  and  every  time  he  could  contrive 
to  do  so,  unseen  by  his  wife,  that  gentleman  indicated  to  his  son  the 
hidden  emotions  of  his  bosom,  by  shaking  his  libt  over  the  deputy  shep- 
herd's lieatl,  a  process  which  afforded  his  ison  the  most  unfningled  de- 
light and  satisfaction,  the  more  especially  as  Mr.  Stiggins  went  on, 
quietly  drinking  the  hot  pineapple  rum  and  water,  wholly  unconscious 
uf  what  was  going  forward. 


368  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

The  major  part  of  the  conversation  was  confined  to  Mrs.  Weller  and 
the  reverend  Mr.  Stiggins  ;  and  the  topics  principally  descanted  on 
were  the  virtues  of  the  shepherd,  the  worthiness  of  his  flock,  and  the 
high  crimes  and  misdemeanors  of  every  body  beside — dissertations 
which  the  elder  Mr.  Weller  occasionally  interrupted  by  halt-suppressed 
references  to  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Walker,  and  other  running 
commentaries  of  the  same  kind. 

At  length  Mr.  Stiggins,  with  several  most  indubitable  symptoms  of 
having  quite  as  much  pineapple  rum  and  water  about  him  as  he  could 
comfortably  accommodate,  took  his  hat  and  his  leave  :  and  Sam  was 
immediately  after  shown  to  bed  by  his  father.  The  respectable  old 
geiitleman  wrung  his  hand  fervently,  and  seemed  disposed  to  address 
Aomo  observations  to  his  son.  but  on  Mrs.  Weller  advancing  towards  him 
}ie  appeared  to  relinquish  his  intention,  and  abruptly  bade  him  good  night. 

Sara  was  up  betimes  next  day,  and  having  partaken  of  a  hasty  break- 
fast, prepared  to  return  to  London.  He  had  scarcely  set  foot  without 
the  house,  when  his  father  stood  before  him. 

*' Goin',  Sammy]"'  inquired  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Off  at  once,"  replied  Sam. 

"  I  vish  you  could  muffle  that  'ere  Stiggins,  and  take  him  with  you," 
said  Mr.  Weller. 

"  I  am  ashamed  o'  you,  old  two-for-his-heels,"  said  Sam,  reproach- 
fully, "  what  do  you  let  him  show  his  red  nose  in  the  Markis  o'  Granby 
at  all,  for?" 

Mr.  Weller  the  elder  fixed  on  his  son  an  earnest  look,  and  replied — 
•*  'Cause  I'm  a  married  man,  Samivel,  'cause  I'm  a  married  man.  Yen 
you*re  a  married  man,  Samivel,  you'll  understand  a  good  many  things 
as  you  don't  understand  now  ;  but  vether  it's  worth  while  goin'  through 
so  much,  to  learn  so  little,  as  the  charity-boy  said  ven  he  got  to  the  end 
of  the  alphabet,  is  a  matter  o'  taste,     /rayther  think  it  isn't." 

"  Well,"  said  Sam,  "  good  bye." 

"  Tar,  tar,  Sammy,"  replied  his  father. 

"  I've  only  got  to  say  this  here,"  said  Sam,  stopping  short,  "  that  if 
/  was  the  properiator  o'  the  Markis  o'  Granby,  and  that  'ere  Stiggins 
came  and  made  toast  in  niy  bar,  I'd — " 

"What!"  interposed  Mr.  Weller,  with  great  anxiety,     <'^yhat?" 

" — Pison  his  rum  and  water,"  said  Sam. 

"No!"  said  Mr.  Weller,  shaking  his  son  eagerly  by  the  hand, 
"would  you  raly,  Sammy — would  you,  though?' 

**  I  would,"  said  Sam.  "  I  wouldn't  be  too  hard  upon  him,  at  first : 
I'd  just  drop  him  in  the  water-butt  and  put  the  lid  on  ;  and  then  if  I 
found  he  was  insensible  to  kindness,  I'd  try  the  other  persvasion." 

The  elder  Mr.  Weller  bestowed  a  look  if  deep,  unspeakable  admira- 
tion on  his  son,  and,  having  once  more  grasped  his  hand,  walked  slowly 
.-iway,  revolving  in  his  mind  the  numerous  reflections  to  which  his  ad- 
\ice  had  given  rise. 

Sam  looked  after  him,  til>  he  turned  a  corner  of  the  road,  and  then 
set  forward  on  his  walk  to  London.  He  meditated  at  first  on  the  pro- 
bable consequences  of  his  own  advice,  and  the  likelihood  and  unlikeli- 
hood of  his  father's  adopting  it.  He  dismissed  the  subject  from  his 
mind,  however,  with  the  consolatory  reflection  that  time  alone  would 
thow  ;  and  this  is  just  the  reflection  we  would  impress  upon  the  reade?. 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  269 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

X  GOOD-HUHOCRED  CHEISTMAS  CHAPTEB,  CONTAINING  AN  ACCOUNT  ©F  A 
WEDDING,  AND  SOME  OTHER  SPORTS  BESIDE,  WHICH  ALTHOUGH  IN 
THEIR  WAY,  EVEN  AS  OOOD  CCoTOMS  AS  MARRIAGE  ITSELF.  AHZ  NOT 
QDITE  SO  RELIGIOCSLY  KEPT  UP  IN  THESE  DEGbXBBATE  TIJJES. 

As  brisk  as  bees,  if  not  altogether  as  liglit  as  fairies,  did  the  four 
Pickwickians  assemble  on  the  moming  of  the  twenty-second  day  of 
December,  in  the  year  of  grace  in  which  these,  their  faithfully-recorded 
ad^'entures,  were  undertaken  and  accomplished.  Christmas  was  close 
at  hand,  in  all  his  bluff  and  hearty  honesty  ;  it  was  the  season  of  hos- 
pitality, merriment,  and  open-heartedness  ;  the  old  year  was  preparing, 
like  an  atncient  philosopher,  to  call  his  friends  around  him,  and  amidst 
the  sound  of  feasUng  and  revelry  to  pass  gently  an;]  calmly  away.  Gay 
and  merry  was  the  time ;  and  right  gay  and  merry  were  at  least  four 
of  the  numerous  hearts  that  were  gladdened  by  its  coming. 

And  numerous  indeed  are  the  hearts  to  which  Christmas  brings  a, 
brief  season  of  happiness  and  enjoyment.  How  iiiary  families  whose 
members  have  been  di.spcrsed  and  scattered  far  and  wide,  in  the  restless 
struggles  of  life,  are  then  re-united,  and  meet  once  again  in  that  happy 
slate  of  companionship  and  mutual  good-will  which  is  a  source  of  such 
pure  and  unalloyed  delight,  and  one  so  incompatible  with  the  carco' 
and  forrowa  of  the  world,  that  the  religious  belief  of  the  most  civillied 
nations,  and  the  rude  traditions  of  the  roughest  savages,  alike  number  it 
among  the  first  joys  of  a  future  state  of  existence,  provided  for  the 
blest  and  happy  !  How  many  old  recollections,  and  how  many  dormant 
f.ympathies,  docs  Christmas-time  awaken  ! 

We  write  these  words  now,  many  miles  distant  from  the  spot  at 
which,  year  after  year,  we  met  on  that  day  a  men»y  and  joyous  circle. 
Many  of  the  hearts  that  throbbed  so  gaily  then  have  ceased  to  beat ; 
many  of  the  looks  that  shor.**  so  brightly  then  have  ceased  to  glow  ; 
the  hands  we  grasped  have  grown  cold  ;  the  eyes  we  sought  have  hid 
their  lustre  in  the  grave ;  and  yet  the  old  house,  the  room,  the  merry 
voices  and  smiling  faces,  the  jest,  the  laugh,  the  most  minute  and  trivia! 
circumstance  connected  with  those  happy  meetings,  crowd  upon  our 
mind  at  each  recurrence  of  the  season,  as  if  the  last  assemblage  had 
been  but  yesterday.  Happy,  happy  Christmas,  that  can  win  us  back  to 
the  delusions  of  our  childish  days,  that  can  recall  to  the  old  man  the 
pleasures  of  his  youth,  and  transport  the  sailor  and  traveller,  thousand*, 
of  miles  away,  back  to  his  own  fire-side  and  his  quiet  home  ! 

But  we  are  so  taken  up,  and  occupied,  with  the  good  qualities  of 
Christmas,  who,  by  the  way,  is  quite  a  country  gentleman  of  the  old 
school,  that  we  are  keeping  Sir.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  waiting  in  the 
cold,  on  the  outside  of  the  Mugglcton  coach,  which  they  have  jast 
attained, 'well  wrapped  up,  in  great  coat,  shawls,  and  comforters.  The 
portmanteaus  arwl  carpet-bags  have  been  stowed  away,  and  Mr.  Wcller 
and  Ihe  guaid  are  endeavouring  to  insinuate  into  the  fore-boot  a  bage 

23* 


270  POSTHUMOUS   PAPERS  OF 

cod-fish  several  sizes  too  large  for  it,  which  is  snugly  packed  up,  in  a 
long  brown  basket,  with  a  layer  of  straw  over  the  top,  and  which  has  been 
left  to  the  hst,  in  order  that  he  may  repose  in  safety  on  the  half-dozen 
barrels  of  real  native  oysters,  all  the  property  of  Mr.  Pickwick,  which 
have  been  arranoed  in  regular  order,  at  the  bottom  of  the  receptacle. 
The  interest  displayed  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance  i.s  mo.st  intense,  as 
Mr.  Weller  and  the  guard  try  to  squeeze  the  cod-fish  into  the  boot,  first 
head  first,  and  then  tail  first,  and  then  top  upv/ards,  and  then  bottom 
upwards,  and  then  side-ways,  and  then  long-ways,  all  of  which  artifices 
the  implacable  cod-fish  sturdily  resists,  until  the  guard  accidentally 
hits  him  in  the  very  middle  of  the  basket,  whereupon  he  suddenly  dis- 
appears into  the  boot,  and  with  him,  the  head  and  shoulders  'af  the 
guard  himself,  who,  not  calculating  upon  so  sudden  a  cessation  of  the 
passive  reoistance  of  the  cod-fish,  experiences  a  very  unexpected  shock, 
to  the  unsmotherable  delight  of  all  the  porters  and  by-standers.  Upon 
this  Mr.  Pickwick  smiles  with  great  good  humour,  and  drawing  a  shil- 
ling I'rom  his  waistcoat  pocket,  l)egs  the  guard,  as  he  picks  himself  out 
of  the  boot,  to  drink  his  health  in  a  glass  of  hot  brandy  and  water,  at, 
which  the  guard  smiles  too,  and  Messrs.  Snodgrass,  Winkle,  and  Tup- 
man,  all  smile  in  company.  The  guard  and  Mr.  Weller  disappear  for 
five  minutes,  most  probably  to  get  the  hot  brandy  and  water,  for  they 
smell  very  strongly  of  it,  when  they  return  ;  the  coachman  mounts  to 
the  box,  Mr.  W^eller  jumps  up  behind,  the  Pickwickians  pull  their  coats 
round  their  legs,  and  their  shawls  over  their  noses  ;  the  helpers  pull  the 
horse-cloths  off,  the  coachman  shouts  out  .a  cheery  "All  right,"'  and 
away  they  go. 

They  have  rumbled  through  the  streets,  and  jolted  over  the  stones, 
and  at  length  reach  the  wide  and  open  country.  The  wheels  skim 
over  the  hard  and  frosty  ground  :  and  the  horses,  bursting  into  a  canter 
at  a  smart  crack  of  the  whip,  step  along  the  road  as  if  the  load  behiml 
them,  coach,  passengers,  cod-fish,  oyster  barrels  and  all,  were  but  a 
feather  at  their  heels.  They  have  descended  a  gentle  slope,  and  enter 
upon  a  level,  as  compact  and  dry  as  a  solid  block  of  marble,  two  miles 
long.  Another  crack  of  the  whip,  and  on  they  speed  at  a  smart  gallop, 
the  horses  tossing  their  heads  and  rattling  the  harness  as  if  in  exhilara- 
tion at  the  rapidity  of  the  motion,  while  the  coachman  holding  whifi 
and  reins  in  one  hand,  takes  off  his  hat  with  the  other,  and  resting  it 
(jtn  his  knees,  pulls  out  his  handkerchief,  and  wipes  his  foi'-head,  partly 
because  he  has  a  habit  of  doing  it,  and  partly  because  it's  as  well  to 
show  the  passengers  how  cool  he  is,  and  what  an  easy  thing  it  is  to 
drive  four-in-hand,  when  you  have  had  as  much  practice  as  he  has. 
Having  done  this  very  leisurely,  (otherwise  the  eflfect  would  be  materi- 
ally impaired,)  he  replaces  his  handkerchief,  pulls  on  his  hat,  adjusts 
his  gloves,  squares  his  elbows,  cracks  the  whip  again,  and  on  they 
speed,  more  merrily  than  before. 

A  few  small  houses  scattered  on  either  side  of  the  road,  betoken  the 
entrance  to  some  small  town  or  village.  The  lively  notes  of  the 
guard's  key  bugle  vibrate  in  the  clear  cold  air,  and  wake  up  the  old 
gentleman  inside,  who  carefully  letting  down  the  window-sash  half 
way,  and  standing  sentry  over  the  air,  takes  a  short  peep  out,  and 
then  carefully  pulling  it  up  again,  informs  the  other  inside  that  they're 
going  to  change  directly  ;  on  which  the  other  inside  wakes  himself 
up,  and  determines  to  postpone  his  next  nap  until  after  the  stoppage. 
Again  the  bugle  sounds  lustily  forth,  and  rouses  the  cottager's  wife 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  271 

and  children,  who  peep  out  at  the  house-door,  and  v/atch  the  coach  till 
it  turns  the  corner,  when  they  once  more  crouch  round  the  blazing 
fire,  and  throw  on  another  log  of  wood  against  father  comes  borne, 
while  father  himself,  a  full  mile  off,  has  just  exchanged  a  friendly  nod 
with  the  coachman,  and  turned  round  to  take  a  good  long  starv  at  the 
vehicle  as  it  whirls  away. 

And  now  the  bugle  plays  a  lively  air  as  the  coach  rattles  through 
the  ill-paved  streets  of  a  countn,'  town  ;  and  the  coachman,  undoing 
the  buckle  which  keep  his  ribands  tooether,  prepr.res  to  throw  them 
off  the  moment  he  stops.  Mr.  Pickwick  emerges  from  his  coat  collar, 
and  looks  about  him  with  great  curiosity  ;  perceiving  which,  the  coach- 
man informs  Mr.  Pickwick  of  the  name  of  the  town,  and  tells  him  it  was 
market-day  yesterday,  both  which  pieces  of  information  Mr.  Pickwick 
retails  to  his  fellow-passengers,  whereupon  they  emerge  from  their 
coat  collars  too,  and  look  about  them  also.  Mr.  Winkle,  who  sits  at 
the  extreme  edge  with  one  leg  dangling  in  the  air,  is  nearly  precipi- 
tated into  the  street,  as  the  coach  twists  round  the  sharp  corner  by  the 
cheesemonger's  shop,  and  turns  into  the  market-place  ;  and  before 
Mr.  Snodgrass,  who  sits  next  to  him,  has  reeovered  from  his  alarm, 
they  have  pulled  up  at  the  inn  yard,  where  the  fresh  horses  with  cloths 
on,  are  already  waiting.  The  coachman  throws  down  the  reins  and  get.s 
down  himself,  and  the  outside  passengers  drop  down  also,  except  those 
who  have  no  great  confidence  in  their  ability  to  get  up  again,  and  they 
remain  where  they  are,  and  stamp  their  feet  ajjainst  the  coach  to  warm 
them  ;  looking  with  longing  eyes  and  red  noses  at  the  bright  fire  in  the 
inn  bar,  and  the  sprigs  of  holly  with  red  berries  which  ornament  the 
window. 

But  the  guard  has  delivered  at  the  corn-dealer's  shop  the  brown 
paper  packet  he  took  out  of  the  little  pouch  which  hangs  over  his 
shoulder  by  a  leathern  strap,  and  has  seen  the  horses  carefully  put  to, 
and  has  thrown  on  the  pavement  the  saddle  which  was  brought  from 
London  on  the  coach-roof,  and  has  assisted  in  the  conference  between 
the  coachman  and  the  hostler  about  the  gray  mare  that  hurt  her  off- 
fore-leg  last  Tuesday,  and  he  and  Mr.  Weller  are  all  right  behind,  and 
the  coachman  is  all  right  in  front,  and  the  old  gentleman  inside,  who 
has  kept  the  window  down  full  two  inches  all  this  time,  has  pulled  it 
\ip  again,  and  the  cloths  are  off,  ai^  they  are  all  ready  for  starting, 
except  the  "  two  stout  gentlemen,"  whom  the  coachman  inquires  after 
with  some  impatience.  Hereupon  the  coachman,  and  the  guard,  and 
Sara  Weller,  and  Mr.  Winkle,  and  Mr.  Snodgrass,  and  all  the  hostler?:, 
and  every  one  of  the  idlers,  who  are  more  in  number  than  all  the 
others  put  together,  shout  for  the  missing  gentlemen  as  loud  as  they 
can  bawl.  A  distant  response  is  heard  from  the  yard,  and  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  Mr.  Tupman  come  running  down  it.  quite  out  of  breath,  for 
they  have  been  having  a  glass  of  ale  apiece,  and  .Mr.  Pickwick'.^  fingers 
arc  so  cold  that  he  has  been  full  five  minutes  before  he  could  find  thr 
:.iixpence  to  pay  for  it.  The  coachman  shouts  an  admonitory  *'  Now, 
then,  genTm'n,"  the  guard  re-echoes  it — the  old  gentleman  inside, 
thinks  it  a  very  extraordinary  thing  that  people  will  get  down  when 
they  know  there  isn't  time  for  it — Mr  Pickwick  struggles  up  on  one 
side,  -Mr.  Tupman  on  the  other,  Mr.  Winkle  cries  "  All  ri^'ht,"  and  off 
they  start.  Shawls  are  pulled  up.  coat  collars  are  re-adjusted,  the 
pavement  ceases,  the  houses  disappear ;  and  they  are  once  again 
dashing  along  the  open  road,  with  \Jt\e  fresh  clear  air  Wowing  in  their 
faces,  and  gladdening  their  very  hearts  within  them. 


272  P0STHUM0D6    PAPERS    OF 

Such  was  the  progress  of  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  by  the  Mug- 
gleton  Telegraph,  on  their  way  to  Dingley  Dell ;  and  at  three  o'clock 
that  afternoon,  they  all  stood,  high  and  dry,  safe  and  sound,  hale  and 
hearty,  upon  the  steps  of  the  Blue  Lion,  having  taken  on  the  road  quite 
enough  of  ale  and  bi^andy,  to  enable  them  to  bid  defiance  to  the  frost 
that  was  binding  up  the  earth  in  its  iron  fetters,  and  weaving  its  beau- 
tiful net-work  upon  the  trees  and  hedges.  Mr.  Pickwick  was  busily 
engaged  in  counting  the  barrels  of  oysters,  and  superintending  the  dis- 
interment of  the  cod-fish,  when  he  felt  himself  gently  pulled  by  the 
skirts  of  the  coat ;  and  looking  round,  he  discovered  that  the  individual 
who  resorted  to  this  mode  of  catching  his  attention,  was  no  other  than 
Mr.  Wardle's  favourite  page,  better  known  to  the  rea;.ler8  of  this  un- 
varnished history  by  the  distinguished  appellation  of  the  fat  boy. 

"Aha!"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Aha!"  said  the  fat  boy. 

And  as  he  said  it,  he  glanced  from  the  cod-fish  to  the  oyster-barrels, 
and  chuckled  joyously.     He  was  fatter  than  ever. 

"  Well,  you  look  ro.sy  enough,  my  young  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Pve  been  asleep,  right  in  the  front  of  the  lap-room  fire,"  replied 
the  fat  boy,  who  had  heated  himself  to  the  colour  of  a  new  chimney- 
pot, in  the  course  of  an  hour's  nap.  "  Master  sent  me  over  with  the 
ehay-cart,  to  carry  your  luggage  up  to  the  house.  He'd  ha'  sent  some 
saddle  horses,  but  he  thought  you'd  rather  walk,  being  a  cold  day." 

*'  Yes,  yes,"'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  hastily,  for  he  remembered  how  they 
had  travelled  over  nearly  the  same  ground  on  a  previous  occasion. — 
"Yes,  we  would  rather  walk.     Here  Sam." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Wellcr. 

"Help  Mr.  Wardle's  servant  to  put  the  packages  into  the  cart,  and 
then  ride  on  with  him.     We  will  walk  forward  at  once." 

Having  given  this  direction,  and  settled  with  the  coachman,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick and  his  three  friends  struck  into  the  footpath  across  the  fields, 
and  walked  briskly  away,  leaving  Mr.  Weller  and  the  fat  boy  confronted 
together  for  the  first  time.  Sam.  looked  at  the  fat  boy  with  great  as- 
tonishment, but  without  saying  a  word  ;  and  began  to  stow  the  things 
rapidly  away  in  the  cart,  while  the  fat  boy  stood  quietly  by,  and  seemed 
to  think  it  a  very  interesting  sort  of  thing  to  see  Mr.  Weller  working 
by  himself. 

"  There,"  said  Sam,  throwing  in  the  last  carpet  bag.  "  There  they 
are." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  fat  boy,  in  a  very  satisfied  tone.  "  there  they  arc." 

='  Veil,  young  twenty  stun,"  said  Sam,  "  you're  a  nice  specimen  of  a 
prize  boy,  you  are." 

"  Thank'ee,"  said  t!ie  fat  boy. 

"  \  ou  ain't  got  nothin'  on  your  mind  as  makes  you  fret  yourself, 
have  you  ?"  inquired  Sam. 

"  Not  as  I  knows  on,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  I  should  ray ther  ha'  thought,  to  look  at  you,  that  you  was  a  labouria  - 
under  an  unrequited  attachment  to  some  young  'ooman,"  said  Sam. 

The  fat  boy  shook  his  head. 

"  Veil,"  said  Sam.  "  Pm  glad  to  hear  it.  Do  you  ever  drink  any  thin'  1" 

"  I  likes  eating,  bettj?r,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  Ah,"  said  Sam,  '•  I  shauld  hu'  s'posed  that ;  but  what  I  mean  is, 
should  you  like  a  drop  of  any  thin'  as'd  warm  you  1  but  I  s'pose  you 
never  was  cold,  with  all  tljem  elastic  fixtures,  was  you  V 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  273 

=*  Sometimes,"  replied  the  boy.  "  And  I  likes  a  drop  of  something, 
when  it's  good." 

"  Oh,  you  do,  do  you  !"  said  Sam,  "  come  this  vay,  then.'' 

The  Blue  Lion  tap  was  soon  gained,  and  the  fat  boy  swallowed  a 
glass  of  liquor  witiiout  so  much  as  winking, — a  feat  which  considera- 
bly advanced  him  in  Mr.  Weller's  good  opinion.  Mr.  Weller  having 
transacted  a  similar  piece  of  business  on  his  own  account,  they  got  into 
the  cart. 

"  Can  you  drive  1"  said  the  fat  boy. 

"  I  should  rayther  think  so,"  replied  Sam. 

"  There,  then,^'  said  the  fat  boy,  putting  the  reins  in  his  hand,  and 
pointing  up  a  lane,  "  It's  as  straight  as  yo»u  can  go  ;  you  can't  mips  it.". 

With  these  words  the  fat  boy  laid  himself  affectiona'.ely  down  by  the 
side  of  the  cod-fish,  and  placing  an  oyster-barrel  under  his  head  for  a 
pillow,  fell  asleep  instantaneously. 

"  Yell,"  said  Sam,  •'  of  all  the  cool  boys  ever  I  set  my  eyes  on,  this 
here  young  gen'l'm'n  is  about  the  coolest.  Come,  vake  up,  young 
dropsy." 

But  as  young  dropsy  evinced  no  symptom  of  returning  animation, 
Sam  Weller  sat  himself  down  in  front  of  the  cart,  and  starting  the  old 
horse  with  a  jerk  of  the  rein,  jogged  steadily  on  towards  Manor  Farm. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Pickwick  and  his  friends  having  walked  their  blood 
into  active  circulation,  proceeded  cheerfully  on  ;  the  paths  were  hard, 
the  grass  was  crisp  and  frosty,  the  air  had  a  fine,  dry,  bracing  coldness, 
and  the  rapid  approach  of  the  gray  twilight  (slate  coloured  is  a  better 
term  in  frosty  weather)  made  them  look  forward  with  pleasant  antici- 
pation to  the  comforts  which  awaited  them  at  their  hospitable  enter- 
tciiner's.  It  was  the  sort  of  afternoon  that  might  induce  a  couple  of 
elderly  gentlemen,  in  a  lonely  field,  to  take  off  their  great  coats  and. 
play  at  leap-frog  in  pure  lightness  of  heart  and  gaiety  ;  and  we  firmly 
believe  that  had  Mr.  Tupman  at  that  moment  protiered  a  "back,''  Mr. 
Pickwick  would  have  accepted  his  oflTer  with  the  utmost  avidity. 

However,  Mr.  Tupman  did  not  volunteer  any  such  personal  accom- 
modation, and  the  fi lends  walked  on,  conversing  merrily.  As  they 
turned  into  a  lane  which  they  had  to  cross,  the  sound  of  many  voices 
burst  upon  their  ears  ;  and  before  they  had  even  had  time  to  form  a 
guess  as  to  whom  they  belonged,  they  walked  into  the  very  centre  of 
the  party  who  were  expecting  their  arrival — a  fact  which  was  first  no- 
tified to  the  Pickwickians,  by  the  loud  "  Hurrah,"  which  burst  from 
old  Wardle's  lips,  when  they  appeared  in  sight. 

"  First,  there  was  Wardfe  himself,  looking,  if  that  were  possible, 
more  jolly  than  ever  ;  then  there  were  Bella  and  her  faithful  Trundle  ; 
and  lastly,  there  were  Emily  and  some  eight  or  ten  young  ladies,  who 
had  all  come  down  to  the  wedding  which  w.-.s  to  take  place  next  day, 
and  were  in  as  happy  and  important  a  state  as  young  ladies  usually  are 
on  such  momentous  occasions  ;  and  they  were,  one  and  all,  startling 
the  fields  and  lanes  far  and  wide  with  their  frolic  and  laughter. 

The  ceremony  of  introduction,  under  such  circumstances,  was  very 
soon  performed,  or  we  should  rather  say  that  the  irttfoduction  was  soon 
over,  without  any  ceremony  at  all  ;  and  in  two  minutes  thereafter.  .Mr. 
Pickwick  was  joking  with  the  young  ladies — who  wouldn't  come  over 
the  ftile  while  he  looked,  or  who,  having  pretty  feet  and  une.\c«  |)Uoq- 
q.ble  ankles,  preferred  standing  on  the  top  rail  for  five  minutes  or  so, 
and  declaring  that  they  were  too  frightened  to  move,  with  as  much  ease 


274  POSTHDMODS  PAPERS  OK 

and  absence  of  rescr/e  or  constraint,  as  if  he  had  known  them  for  life. 
It  is  worthy  of  remark  too,  that  Mr.  Snodgrass  offered  Emily  far  more 
assistance  than  the  absolute  terrors  of  the  stile  (although  it  was  full 
three  feet  high,  and  had  only  a  couple  of  stepping-stones)  would  seem 
to  require  ;  while  one  black-eyed  young  lady  in  a  very  nice  little  pair 
of  boots  with  fur  round  the  top,  was  observed  to  scream  very  loudly, 
when  Mr.  Winkle  offered  to  help  her  over.. 

All  this  was  very  snug  and  pleasant :  and  when  the  difficulties  of  the 
stile  were  at  last  surmounted,  and  they  once  more  entered  on  the  open 
field,  old  Wardle  informed  Mr.  Pickwick  how  they  bad  all  been  down  in 
a  body  to  inspect  the  furniture  and  fittings-up  of  tKt  house,  which  the 
young  couple  were  to  tenant,  after  the  Christmas  holidays  ;  at  which 
communication  Bella  and  Trundle  both  coloured  up,  as  red  as  the  fat 
boy  after  the  taproom  fire  ;  and  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes  and 
the  fur  round  the  boots,  whispered  something  in  Emily's  ear,  and  then 
glanced  archly  at  Mr.  Snodgrass,  to  which  Emily  responded  that  she 
was  a  foolish  girl,  but  turned  very  red  notwithstanding  ;  and  Mr.  Snod- 
grass, who  was  as  modest  as  all  great  geniuses  usually  are,  felt  the 
crimson  rising  to  the  crown  of  his  head,  and  devoutly  wished,  in  the 
inmost  recesses  of  his  own  heart,  that  the  young  lady  aforesaid,  with 
her  black  eyes  and  her  archness,  and  her  boots  with  the  fur  round  the 
top,  were  all  comfortably  deposited  in  the  adjacent  county. 

But,  if  they  were  social  and  happy  outside  the  house,  what  was  the 
warmth  and  cordiality  of  their  reception  when  they  reached  the  farm ! 
The  very  ser^'ants  grinned  with  pleasure  at  sight  of  Mr.  Pickwick: 
and  Emma  bestowed  a  half  demure  half  impudent  and  all  pretty  look  of 
recognition  on  Mr.  Tupman,  which  was  enough  to  make  the  statue  of 
Bonaparte  in  the  passage  unfold  his  arms  and  clasp  her  within  them. 

The  old  lady  was  seated  in  customary  state  in  the  front  parlour;  but 
she  was  rather  cross,  and  by  consequence,  most  particularly  deaf  She 
never  went  out  herself,  and  like  a  great  many  other  old  ladies  of  the 
same  stamp,  she  was  apt  to  consider  it  an  act  of  domestic  treason,  if 
any  body  else  took  the  liberty  of  doing  what  she  couldn't.  So,  bless 
her  old  soul,  she  sat  as  upright  as  she  could  in  her  great  chair,  and 
looked  as  fierce  as  might  be — and  that  was  benevolent  after  all. 

"  Mother,"  said  Wardle,  <'  Mr.  Pickwick.     You  recollect  him." 

"  Never  mind,"  replied  the  old  lady  with  great  dignity.  "  Don't 
trouble  Mr.  Pickwick  about  an  old  creetur  like  me.  Nobody  cares  about 
me  now,  and  it's  very  natural  they  shouldn't."  Here  the  old  lady  tossed 
her  head,  and  smoothed  down  her  lavender-coloured  silk  dress,  with 
trembling  hands. 

"  Come,  come,  ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  can't  let  you  cut  an 
old  friend  m  this  way.  I  have  come  down  expressly  to  have  a  long 
talk,  and  another  rubber  with  you  ;  and  we'll  show  these  boys  and  girls 
how  to  dance  a  minuet  before  they're  eight -and- forty  hours  older." 

The  old  lady  was  rapidly  giving  way,  but  she  did  not  like  to  do  it  ail 
at  once  ;  so  she  only  said,  "  Ah  !   I  can't  hear  him." 

"  Nonsense,  mother,"  said  Wardle.  "  Come,  come,  don't  be  cross, 
there's  a  good  soul.  Recollect  Bella  ;  come  you  must  keep  her  spirit.*; 
up,  poor  girl." 

The  good  old  lady  heard  this,  for  her  lip  quivered  as  her  son  said  it. 
But  age  has  its  little  infirmities  of  temper,  and  she  was  not  quite, 
brought  round  yet.  So  she  smoothed  down  the  lavender-coloured  dress 


THE    PICKWICK    CLDB.  'Z  t i) 

again,  and  turning  to  Mr.  Pickwick,  said — "  Ah,  Mr.  Pickwick,  young 
people  was  very  different  when  I  was  a  girl." 

'•  rso  doubt  of  that,  ma'am,"  eaid  Mr.  Pickwick,  "and  that's  the 
reason  why  I  would  make  much  of  the  few  that  have  any  traces  of  the 
old  stock." — and  saying  this,  Mr.  Pickwick  gently  pulled  Bella  toward 
him,  and  bestowing  a  kiss  upon  her  forehead,  bade  her  sit  down  on  the 
little  stool  at  her  grandmother's  feet.  Whether  the  expression  of  her 
countenance,  as  it  was  raised  towards  the  old  lady's  face,  called  up  a 
thouirht  of  old  times,  or  whether  the  old  lady  was  touched  by  Mr.  Pick- 
wick's affectionate  good  nature,  or  whatever  was  the  cause,  she  was 
fairly  melted  ;  so  she  threw  herself  on  her  grand-daughter's  neck,  and 
all  the  little  ill-humour  evaporated  in  a  gush  of  silent  tears. 

A  happy  party  they  were,  that  night.  Sedate  and  solemn  were  the 
score  of  rubbers  in  which  Mr.  Pickwick  and  the  old  lady  played  to- 
gether ;  and  uproarious  was  the  mirth  of  the  round  table,  liong  after 
the  ladies  had  retired,  did  the  hot  elder  wine,  well  qualified  with  brandy 
and  spice,  go  round  and  round  again  ;  and  sound  was  the  sleep,  and 
pleasant  were  the  dreams  that  followed.  It  "is  a  remarkable  fact,  that 
those  of  Mr.  Snodgrass  bore  constant  reference  to  Emily  Wardle  ;  and 
that  the  principal  figure  in  Mr.  Winkle's  visions,  was  a  young  lady 
with  black  eyes,  an  arch  smile,  and  a  pair  of  remarkably  nice  boot.s, 
with  fur  round  the  tops. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  awakened  early  in  the  morning,  by  a  hum  of 
voices  and  pattering  of  feet,  sufficient  to  rouse  even  the  fat  boy  from 
his  heavy  slumbers.  He  sat  up  in  bed,  and  listened.  The  female 
servants  and  female  visiters  were  running  constantly  to  and  fro  ;  and 
there  were  such  multitudinous  demands  for  warm  water,  such  repeated 
outcries  for  needles  and  thread  and  so  many  half  suppressed  entreaties 
of"  Oh,  do  come  and  tie  me,  there's  a  dear,"  that  Mr.  Pickwick  in  his 
innocence  began  to  imagine  that  something  dreadful  must  have  oc- 
curred, when  he  grew  .more  awake,  and  remembered  the  wedding. 
The  occasion  beipg  an  important  one,  he  dressed  himself  with  peculiar 
care,  and  descended  to  the  breakfast  room. 

There  were  all  the  female  servants  in  a  bran  new  uniform  of  pink 
rauslin  gowns  with  white  bows  in  their  caps,  running  about  the  house 
in  a  state  of  excitement  and  agitation,  which  it  would  be  impossible  to 
describe.  The  old  lady  was  dressed  out,  in  a  brocaded  gown,  which  had 
not  seen  the  light  for  twenty  years,  saving  and  crcepting  such  truant 
rays  as  had  stolen  through  the  chinks  in  the  box  in  which  it  had  been 
laid  by.  during  the  whole  time.  Mr.  Trundle  was  in  high  feather  and 
spirits,  but  a  little  nervous  withal.  The  hearty  old  landlord  was  tnr-ing 
to  look  very  cheerful  and  unconcerned,  but  failing  signally  in  the 
attempt.  All  the  girls  were  in  tears  and  white  muslin,  except  a  select 
two  or  three,  who  were  being  honoured  with  a  private  view  of  the  bride 
and  bridesmaids,  up  stairs.  All  the  Pickwickians  were  in  the  most 
blooming  array  ;  and  there  was  a  terrific  roaring  on  the  grass  in  front 
of  the  house,  occasioned  by  all  the  men,  and  boys,  and  hobbledehoys 
attached  to  the  farm,  each  of  whom  had  got  a  white  bow  in  his  button 
hole,  and  all  of  whom  were  cheering  with  might  and  m.^in  :  being 
incited  thereto,  and  stimulated  therein,  by  the  precept  and  example  of 
Mr.  Samuel  Weller,  who  had  manased  to  become  mighty  popular 
already,  and  was  as  much  at  home  as  if  he  had  been  born  on  the  laiid. 

A  wedding  \s  a  licensed  subject  to  joke  upon,  but  there  really  is  no 
great  joke  in  the  matter  after  all  ;  we  speak  merely  of  the  ceremony, 


276  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OF 

and  beg  it  to  be  distinctly  understood  that  we  indulge  in  no  hidden 
sarcasm  upon  a  married  life.  Mixed  up  with  the  pleasure  and  joy  of 
the  occasion,  are  the  many  regrets  at  quitting  home,  the  tears  of  parting 
between  parent  and  child,  the  consciousness  of  leaving  the  dearest  and 
kindest  friends  of  the  happiest  portion  of  human  life,  to  encounter  its 
cares  and  troubles  with  others  still  untried,  and  little  known — natural 
feelings  which  we  would  not  render  this  chapter  mournful  by  describ- 
ing, and  which, we  should  be  still  more  unwilling  to  be  supposed  to 
ridicule. 

Let  us  briefly  say,  then,  that  the  ceremony  was  performed  by  the 
old  clergyman,  in  the  parish  church  of  Dingley  Dell,  and  that  IVIr. 
Pickwick's  name  is  attached  to  the  register,  still  preserved  in  the 
vestry  thereof;  that  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes  signed  her 
name  in  a  very  unsteady  and  tremulous  manner  ;  and  that  Emily's 
signature,  as  the  other  bridesmaid,  is  nearly  illegible  ;  that  it  all  went 
off  in  a  very  admirable  style  :  that  the  young  ladies,  generally,  thought 
it  far  less  shocking  than  they  expected  ;  and  that  although  the  owner 
of  the  black  eyes,  and  the  arch  smile,  informed  Mr.  Winkle  that  she 
could  never  submit  to  any  thing  so  dreadful,  we  have  the  very  best 
reasons  for  thinking  she  was  mistaken.  To  all  this  we  may  add,  that 
Mr.  Pickwick  was  the  first  who  saluted  the  bride  ;  and  that  in  so  doing 
he  threw  over  her  neck  a  rich  gold  watch  and  chain,  which  no  mortal 
eyes  but  the  jeweller's  had  ever  beheld  before.  Then  the  old  church 
bell  rang  as  gaily  as  it  could,  and  they  all  returned  to  breakfast. 

"  Vere  does  the  mince-pies  go,  young  opium  eater  ]"  said  Mr.  Wel- 
ler  to  the  fat  boy,  as  he  assisted  in  laying  out  such  articles  of  consump- 
tion as  had  not  been  duly  arranged  on  the  previous  night. 

The  fat  boy  pointed  to  the  destination  of  the  pies. 

"  Werry  good,"  said  Sam,  "  stick  a  bit  o'  Christmas  in  'em.  T'other 
dish  opposite.  There  :  now  ve  look  compact  and  comfortable,  as  the 
father  said  ven  he  cut  his  little  boy's  head  off,  to  cure  him  o'  squintin'." 

As  Mr.  Weller  made  the  comparison,  he  fell  back  a  step  or  two,  to 
give  full  effect  to  it,  and  surveyed  the  preparations  with  the  utmost 
satisfaction. 

"  Wardle,"  said  Mr.  Pickvnck,  almost  as  soon  as  they  were  all 
seated,  "  a  glass  of  wine,  in  honour  of  this  happy  occasion  !" 

•'  I  shall  be  delighted,  my  boy,"  said  Wardle.  "  Joe— why  he  is 
gons  to  sleep." 

*'  No,  I  ain't,  sir,"  replied  the  fat  boy,  starting  up  from  a  remote 
corner,  where  hke  the  patron  saint  of  fat  boys — the  immortal  Horner 
— he  had  been  devouring  a  Christmas  pie,  though  not  with  the  cool- 
ness and  deliberation  which  characterized  that  young  gentleman's 
proceedings. 

"  Fill  Mr.  Pickwick's  glass." 

•'Yes,  sir." 

The  fat  boy  filled  Mr.  Pickwick's  glass,  and  then  retired  behind  his 
master's  chair,  from  whence  he  watched  the  play  of  the  knives  and 
forks,  and  the  progress  of  the  choice  morsels,  from  the  dishes  to  the 
mouths  of  the  company,  with  a  kind  of  dark  and  gloomy  joy  that  was 
most  impressive. 

"  God  bless  you,  old  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

'*  Same  to  you.  my  boy,"  replied  Wardle  ;  and  they  pledged  each 
other  heartily. 

"  Mrs.  Wardle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  we  old  folks  must  have  a 
glass  of  wine  together,  in  honour  of  this  joyful  event." 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  277 

The  old  lady  was  in  a  state  of  great  grandeur  just  then,  for  she  was 
sitting  at  the  top  of  the  table  in  the  brocaded  gown,  with  her  newly 
married  daughter  on  one  side,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  on  the  other  to  do 
the  carving.  Mr.  Pickwick  had  not  spoken  in  a  very  loud  tone,  but 
she  understood  him  at  once,  and  drank  off  a  full  glass  of  wine  to  his 
long  life  and  happiness  ;  after  which  the  worthy  old  soul  launched 
forth  into  a  minute  and  particular  account  of  her  own  wedding,  with  a 
dissertation  on  the  fashion  of  wearing  high-heeled  shoes,  and  some 
particulars  concerning  the  life  and  adventures  of  the  beautiful  Lady 
Tollimglower,  deceased,  at  all  of  which  the  old  lady  herself  laughed 
very  heartily  indeed,  and  so  did  the  young  ladies  too,  for  they  were 
wondering  among  themselves  what  on  earth  grandma  was  talking 
about.  When  they  laughed,  the  old  lady  laughed  ten  times  more 
heartily  :  and  said  that  they  always  had  been  coi\sidered  capital  stories, 
which  caused  them  all  to  laugh  again,  and  put  the  old  lady  into  the 
ve-ry  best  of  humours.  Then  the  cake  was  cut,  and  passed  through 
the  ring  ;  and  the  young  ladies  saved  pieces  to  put  under  their  pillows 
to  dream  of  their  future  husbands  on  ;  and  a  great  deal  of  blushing 
and  merririient  was  thereby  occasioned. 

"  Mr.  Miller,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick  to  his  old  acquaiYitance  the  hard- 
headed  gentleman,  "a  glass  of  wine  1" 

*'  Wiih  great  satisfaction,  Mr.  Pickwick,"  replied  the  hard-headed 
gentleman,  solemnly. 

"You'll  take  me  in]"  said  the  benevolent  clergyman. 

"And  me,"  interposed  his  wife. 

"And  me,  and  mc,"  said  a  couple  of  poor  relations  at  the  bottom  of 
the  table,  who  had  eaten  and  drank  very  heartily,  and  laughed  at  every 
thing. 

M  r.  Pickwick  expressed  his  heart-felt  delight  at  every  additional 
suggestiou  ;  and  his  eyes  beamed  with  hilarity  and  cheerfulness. 

"  I..adies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Pickuici,  suddenly  rising — 

"Hear,  hear!  Hear,  hear!  Hear,  hear!"  said  Mr.  Welle r,  in  the 
excitement  of  his  feelings. 

"  Call  in  all  the  servants,"  cried  old  Wardle,  interposing  to  prevent 
the  public  rebuke  which  Mr.  Weller  wouW  otherwise  most  indubitably 
have  received  from  his  master. 

"  Give  them  a  glass  of  wine  each,  to  drink  the  toast  in.  Now,  Pick- 
wick." 

Amidst  the  silence  off  the  company,  the  whispering  of  the  women 
servants,  and  the  awkward  embarrassment  of  the  men,  Mr.  Pickwick 
proceeded  : — 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen — no,  I  wont  say  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I'll 
call  you  my  friends,  my  dear  friends,  if  the  ladies  will  allow  me  t« 
take  so  great  a  liberty " 

Here  Mr.  Pickwick  was  interrupted  by  immense  applause  from  the 
ladies,  echoed  by  the  gentlemen,  during  which  the  owner  of  the  black  eyes 
was  distinctly  heard  to  state,  that  she  could  ki.ss  that  dear  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, whereupon  Mr.  W^inkle  gallantly  inquired  if  it  couldn't  be  done 
by  deputy,  to  which  the  young  lady  with  the  black  eyes  replied,  "  (Jo 
away" — and  accompanied  the  request  with  a  look  which  said  as  plainly 
as  a  look  could  do "  if  you  can." 

•'  My  dear  friends,"  resumed  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  am  going  to  propo^ 
the  health  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom — God  bless  'em,  (cheers  and 
tears.)    My  young  friend  Trundle,  I  believe  to  be  a  very  excellent 

Vol.  L— 2^ 


278  POSTHUMOUS  TAPERS  OF 

and  manly  fellow  ;  and  his  wife  I  know  to  be  a  very  amiable  and  lovely 
girl,  well  qualified  to  transfer  to  another  sphere  of  action  the  happi« 
ness  which,  for  twenty  years,  she  has  diffused  around  her,  in  her 
father's  house.  (Here,  the  fat  boy  burst  forth  into  stentorian  bluhber- 
ings,  and  was  led  forth  by  the  coat  collar,  by  Mr.  Weller.)  I  wish," 
added  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  I  wish  I  was  young  enough  to  be  her  sister's 
husband,  (cheers,)  but,  failing  in  that,  I  am  happy  to  be  old  enough  to  be 
her  father  ;  for,  being  so,  I  shall  not  be  suspected  of  any  latent  de- 
signs when  I  say,  that  I  admire,  esteem,  and  love  them  both,  (cheers 
and  sobs.)  The  bride's  father,  our  good  friend  there,  is  a  noble  per- 
son, and  I  am  proud  to  know  him,  (great  uproar.)  He  is  a  kind,  excel- 
lent, inde{)endent-.spirited,  fine-hearted,  hospitable,  liberal  man,  (enthu- 
siasiic  shouts  from  the  poor  relations,  at  all  the  adjectives  ;  and  espe- 
cially at  the  two  last.)  That  his  daughter  may  enjoy  all  the  happi- 
ness, even  he  can  desire ;  and  that  he  may  derive  from  the  conlcmpla- 
tion  of  her  felicity,  all  the  gratification  of  heart  and  peace  of  mind 
which  he  so  well  deserves,  is,  I  am  persuaded^  our  united  wish.  So, 
let  us  drink  their  healths,  and  wish  them  prolonged  life,  and  every 
blessing. 

Mr.  Pickwick  concluded  amidst  a  whirlwind  of  applause  ;  and  once 
more  were  the  lungs  of  the  supernumeraries,  under  Mr.  Weller's  com- 
mand, brought  into  active  and  efficient  operation.  Mr.  Wardle  pro- 
posed Mr.  Pickwick,  and  Mr.  Pickwick  proposed  the  old  lady.  Mr. 
Snodgrass  proposed  Mr.  Wardle,  and  Mr.  Wardle  proposed  Mr.  Snod- 
grass.  One  of  the  poor  relations  proposed  Mr.  Tupraan,  and  the  other 
poor  relation  proposed  Mr.  Winkle  ;  and  all  was  happiness  and  festi- 
vity, until  the  mysterious  disappearance  of  both  the  poor  relations  be- 
'ncath  the  table,  warned  the  party  that  it  was  time  to  adjourn. 

At  dinner  they  met  again,  after  a  five-and-twenty  mile  walk,  under- 
taken by  the  males  at  Wardle's  recommendation,  to  get  rid  of  the  effecta 
of  the  wine  at  breakfast ;  the  poor  relations  had  lain  in  bed  all  day, 
with  the  view  of  attaining  the  same  happy  consummation,  but,'  as  they 
had  been  unsuccessful  they  stopped  there.  Mr.  Weller  kept  the  do- , 
mestics  in  a  state  of  perpetual  hilarity ;  and  the  fat  boy  divided  his 
time  into  small  alternate  allotments  of  eating  and  sleeping. 

The  dinner  v/as  as  hearty  an  affair  as  the  breakfast,  and  wrfs  quite  as 
noisy,  without  the  tears.  Then  came  the  dessert  and  some  more  toaste. 
Then  came  the  tea  and  coffee  ;  and  then,  the  ball. 

The  best  sitting  room  at  Manor  Farm  was  a  good,  long,  dark  panelled 
room  with  a  high  chimney-piece,  and  a  capacious  chimney,  up  which 
you  could  have  driven  one  of  the  new  patent  cabs,  wheels  and  all.  At 
the  upper  end  of  the  room,  seated  in  a  shady  bower  of  holly  and  ever- 
greens, were  the  two  best  fiddlers,  and  the  only  harp  in  all  Muggleton. 
In  all  sort?  of  recesses,  and  on  all  kinds  of  brackets,  stood  massive  old 
silver  candlesticks  with  four  branches  each.  The  carpet  was  up,  the 
candles  burnt  bright,  the  fire  blazed  and  crackled  on  the  hearth  ;  and 
merry  voices  and  light-hearted  laughter  rang  through  the  room.  If 
any  of  the  old  English  yeomen  had  turned  into  fairies  when  they  died, 
it  was  just  the  place  in  which  they  would  have  held  their  revels. 

If  any  thing  could  have  added  to  the  interest  of  this  agreeable  scene, 
it  would  have  been  the  remarkable  fact  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  appearing 
without  his  gaiters,  for  the  first  time  within  the  memory  of  his  oldcKt 
friends. 

"  You  mean  to  dance !"  said  Wardle. 


'  THE  PICKWICK  CLUB.  279 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  replied  Mr  Pickwick.  "  Don't  you  see  I  am 
dressed  for  the  purpose?"  and  Mr  Pickwick  called  attention  to  his 
speckled  silk  stockings,  and  sinar  ly  tied  putnps. 

"  You  in  silk  stockings  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Tupman,  jocosely. 

"  And  why  not,  sir — why  not  ]"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  turning  warmly 
upon  him, 

"  Oh,  of  course  there  is  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't  wear  them," 
responded  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  I  imagine  not,  sir — I  imagine  not,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  in  a  very 
peremptory  tone. 

Mr.  Tupman  had  contemplated  a  larugh,  but  he  found  it  was  a  serious 
matter  ;  so  he  looked  grave,  and  said  they  were  a  verj'  pretty  pattern. 

"  I  hope  they  are,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  f).\ing  his  eyes  upon  his 
friend.  *'  You  see  nothing  e.xtraordmary  in  these  stockings,  as  stock- 
ings, I  trust,  sir  1" 

"  Certainly  not — oh,  certainly  not,"  repliecf  Mr.  Tupman.  He 
walked  away  ;  and  Mr.  Pickwick's  countenance  resumed  its  customary 
benign  e.xpression. 

"  We  are  all  ready,  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  stationed 
•with  the  old  lady  at  the  top  of  the  dance,  and  had  already  made  four 
false  starts,  in  his  excessive  nnxiety  to  commence. 

"  I'hen  begin  at  once."  said  Wardle.      "  Now.'^ 

Up  struck  the  two  fiddles  and  the  one  harp,  and  ofTwert  Mr.  Pick- 
wick into  hands  across,  when  theie  was  a  general  clapping  of  hands, 
and  a  cry  of  "  Stop,  stop." 

"What's  the  matter,"'  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  only  brought  to, 
by  the  fiddles  and  harp  desisting,  and  could  have  been  stopped  by  no 
earthly  power,  if  the  house  had  been  on  fire. 

"  Where's  Arabella  Allen  !"  said  a  dozen  voices. 

"And  Winkle  ?"  added  Mr.  Tupman. 

"Here  we  are  I"  exclaimed  that  gentleman,  emerging  with  his 
pretty  companion  from  the  corner  ;  and,  as  he  did  so,  it  would  have 
been  hard  to  tell  which  was  redder  in  the  {^ce:,  he  or  the  young  lady 
with  the  black  eyes. 

'*  What  an  extraordinary  thine  it  is  Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick, 
rather  pettishly,  "  that  you  couldn't  have  taken  your  place  before." 

"  Not  at  all  extraordinary,"  said  Mr.  Winkle. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  very  expressive  smile,  as  his 
eyes  rested  on  Arabella,  "  well,  I  don't  know,  that  it  icas  extraordinary, 
either,  after  all." 

However,  there  was  no  time  to  think  more  about  the  matter,  for  the 
fiddles  and  harp  began  in  real  earnest.  Away  went  Mr.  Pickwick — 
hands  across,  down  the  middle  to  the  very  end  of  the  room,  and  half 
way  up  the  chimney,  and  back  aijain  to  the  door — poussctte  every 
where — loud  stamp  on  the  ground — ready  for  the  next  couple — off 
again— all  the  figure  over  once  more — another  stamp  to  beat  out  the 
time — next  couple,  and  the  next,  and  the  next  ai;ain — never  was  such 
going  ;  and  at  last,  after  they  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the  dance, 
and  full  fourteen  couple  after  the  old  lady  had  retired  in  an  exhau.'«ted 
state,  and  the  clergynian's  wife  had  been  substituted  in  her  stead,  did 
that  gentleman,  when  there  was  no  demand  whatever  on  his  exertions, 
keep  perpetually  dancing  in  his  ]>lace,  to  keep  time  to  the  music, 
smiling  on  his  partner  all  the  while  wll!i  a  blanJness  of  iliineanoiir 
Which  baffles  all  description. 


2S0  POSTHUMOUS  PAPERS  OV 

Long  before  Mr.  Pickwick  was  weary  of  dancing,  the  newly  marriej 
couple  had  retircJ  from  the  scene.  There  was  a  glorious  supj)prdown 
stairs,  notwithstanding,  and  a  good  long  sitting  after  it ;  and  wiien 
Mr.  PicUwick  awoke  late  tlie  next  morniag  he  had  a  confused  recollec- 
tion of  having,  severally  and  confidentially,  invited  somewhere  about 
llvc-arid-f().-ty  people  to  dine  with  him  at  the  (ieorge  and  Vulture,  the 
v.ry  first  time  they  come  to  London  ;  which  Mr.  Pickwick  rightly- 
considered  a  pretty  certain  indication  of  his  having  taken  something 
besides  exercise  on  the  previous  night. 

'*  Aiid  so  your  family  has  games  in  the  kitchen  to-night,  my  dear» 
has  they  V'  incjuired  Sjun  of  Emma 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Weller,"  replied  Emma  :  "  we  always  have  on  Christmas 
eve.     Master  wouldn't  neglect  to  keep  it  up,  on  any  account  " 

*' Your  master's  a  werry  pretty  notion  of  keepin'  any  thin'  up,  my 
drar,"  said  Mr.  Weller ;  "  I  never  see  such  a  sensible  sort  o'  man  as 
he  is,  or  such  a  reg'lar  gen'Fman." 

"  Oh,  that  he  is  !"  said  the  fat  boy,  joirving  in  the  conversation  ;  "  don't 
he  breed  nice  pork  !"'  and  the  fat  youth  gave  a  semi-cannibalic  leer  at 
Mr.  Weller,  as  he  thought  of  the  roast  legs  and  gravy. 

"  Oh,  you've  woke  up  at  last,  have  you  V  said  Sam. 

The  hi  boy  nodded. 

'  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  young  boa  constructor,"  said  Mr.  Weller, 
imjtressivi'ly,  "  if  you  don't  sleep  a  little  less,  and  exercise  a  Hltlc  more, 
yen  you  comes  to  be  a  man,  you'll  lay  yourself  open  to  the  same  sort 
o'  personal  inconwenience  a.-j  was  inflicted  on  the  old  gen'l'nian  as  wore 
the  pigtail." 

"  What  did  they  do  to  him  ?"  inquired  the  fet  boy,  in  a  faltering  voice. 

"  Im  a  goin'  to  tell  you,"  replied  Mr.  Weller.  "He  was  one  o'  the 
largest  patterns  as  was  ever  turped  out — reg'lar  fat  man,  as  hadn't 
caught  a  glimpse  of  his  own  shoes  for  five-and-forty  years." 

"  Indeed  !''  exclaimed  Emma. 

"  No,  that  he  hadn't  my  dear,  said  Mr.  Weller,  "  and  if  you'd  put  an 
exact  model  of  his  own  legs  on  the  dinin'  table  afore  him,  he  wouldn't 
ha'  known  'em.  Well,  he  always  walks  to  his  office  with  a  werry 
handsome  gold  watch-chain  hangin'  out  about  a  foot  and  a  half,  ar»d  a 
gold  watch  in  his  fob  pocket  as  vvas  worth — Pm  afraid  to  say  how 
much,  but  as  much  as  a  watch  can  be — a  large,  heavy,  round  mana- 
facter,  as  stout  for  a  watch  as  he  was  for  a  man,  and  with  a  big  face 
in  proportion.  '  You'd  better  not  carry  that  'ere  watch,'  says  the  old 
genl'man's.  friends — 'you'll  be  robbed  on  it,'  says  they.  '  Shall  I  ?' 
tays  he.  *  Y'cs,  will  you,'  says  they.  '  A'ell,'  says  he,  '  I  should  like 
to  see  the  thief  as  could  gei,  this  here  watch  out,  for  Pm  blessed  if  / 
ever  can  ;  it's,  such  a  tight  fit,'  says  he,  '  and  venever  I  vants  to  know 
what's  o'clock,  I  am  obliged  to  stare  into  the  bakers'  shops,'  ho  says. 
Well,  then  he  laughs  as  hearty  as  if  he  was  a  goin'  to  pieces,  and  out  he 
walks  agin  with  his  powdered  head  and  pigtail,  and  rolls  down  the  Strand 
vith  the  chain  hangin'  out  furder  than  ever,  and  the  great  round  watch 
almost  buBtin'  through  his  gray  kersey  smalls.  There  warn't  a  pick- 
j>ocket  in  all  London  as  didn't  take  a  pull  at  that  chain,  but  the  chain 
'ud  never  bretik,  and  the  watch  'ud  never  come  out,  so  they  soon  got 
tired  a  dragging  such  a  heavy  old  gen'l'man  along  the  pavement,  and 
he'd  go  home  and  laugh  till  the  pig-tail  wibrated  like  the  pendulum  of 
a  Dutch  clock.  At  last,  one  day  the  old  gen'l'man  was  rollin'  along,  and 
hp  sees  a  pickpocket  as  he  kngw'd  by  sight  Sk-comin'  up,  arm  in  arm 


THE  PICKWICK  CLUn.  291 

vlth  a  little  boy  vith  a  wcrry  large  head.  '  Here's  a  game,'  says  the  old 
gen'l'man  to  himselt";  '  they're  a-goin'  to  have  another  try,  but  it  won't 
do."  So  he  begins  a  chuckiin'  werry  hearty,  von,  all  of  a  sudden,  the 
little  boy  leaves  hold  of  the  pickpocket's  arm,  and  rushes  hcadfurcniost 
straight  into  the  old  gen'l'man's  stomach,  and  for  a  momest  doubled 
him  right  up  with  the  pain.  '  Murder  I'  says  the  old  genTmaii.  '  All 
right,  sir,'  says  the  pickjjocket,  a  whisperin'  in  his  ear.  And  vcn  he 
comes  straight  agin,  the  watch  and  chain  wa.«»  gene,  and  what's  worse 
than  th/it,  the  old  geriTman's  digestion  was  all  wrong  ever  ar!erwards, 
to  the  werry  last  day  of  his  life  ;  so  just  you  look  about  you,  young 
feller,  and  take  care  yon  don't  get  too  fat.' 

As  Mr.  Weller  concluded  this  moral  tale,  with  which  the  fat  boy 
appeared  much  affected,  they  all  three  wended  their  way  to  the  large 
kitchen,  in  which  the  family  were  by  this  time  assembled,  according  to 
annual  custom  on  Christmas  eve,  observed  by  old  Wardle's  forefathers 
IVora  time  immemorial. 

From  the  centre  of  the  ceiling  of  this  kitchen,  old  Wardle  had  just 
suspended  with  his  own  hands  a  huge  branch  of  mistletoe,  and  this 
same  branch  of  mistletoe  instantaneously  gave  rise  to  a  scene  of  gen- 
eral and  most  delightful  struggling  and  confusion;  in  the  midst  of 
which  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  a  gallantry  which  would  have  done  honour 
to  a  descendant  of  Lady  ToUimglowcr  herself,  took  the  old  lady  by  the 
hand,  led  her  beneath  the  mystic  branch,  and  saluted  her  in  all  courtesy 
and  decorum.  The  old  lady  submitted  to  this  piece  of  practical  polite- 
ness with  all  the  dignity  which  befitted  so  important  and  serious  a 
solemnity,  but  the  younger  ladies  not  being  so  thoroughly  imbued  with 
a  superstitious  veneration  of  the  custom,  or  imagining  that  the  value 
of  a  salute  is  very  much  enhanced  if  it  cost  a  little  trouble  to  obtain  it, 
screamed  and  struggled,  and  ran  into  corners,  and  threatened  and  re- 
monstrated, and  did  every  thing  but  leave  the  room,  until  some  of  the 
less  adventurous  gentlemen  were  on  the  point  of  desisting,  when  they 
all  at  once  found  it  useless  to  resist  any  longer,  and  submitted  to  be 
ki.ssed  with  a  good  grace.  Mr.  Wjrdcle  kissed  the  young  lady  with  the 
black  eyes,  and  Mr.  Suodgrass  ki.ssed  Emily  ;  and  Mr.  Weller,  not  being 
particular  about  the  form  of  being  under  the  misletoe,  kissed  Emma 
and  the  other  female  servants  just  as  he  caught  them.  As  to  the  poor 
relations,  they  ki.ssed  every  body,  not  e\cn  excepting  the  plainer  portion 
of  the  young-lady  visiter?,  who,  in  their  confusion,  ran  right  under  the 
misletoe,  directly  it  was  hung  up,  without  knowing  it  !  Wardle  stood 
with  his  back  to  the  fire,  surveying  the  whole  scene  with  the  utmost 
satisfaction  ;  and  the  fat  boy  took  the  opportunity  of  appropriating  to 
his  own  use,  and  su;nmarily  devouring,  a  particularly  fine  mince-pie, 
that  had  been  carefully  put  by  for  somebody  else. 

rsow  the  screaming  had  subsided,  and  facrs  were  in  a  £jIow  and 
curls  in  a  tangle,  and  Mr.  l^ickwick,  after  kis.«ing  the  old  lady  as 
before-mentiored,  was  standing  under  the  mistletce,  looking  with  a 
very  pleased  coutitenance  on  all  that  was  passing  around  him.  when 
the  ^oung  ladv  with  the  black  eyes,  after  a  little  whispering  with  the 
other  young  ladicr,  made  a  sudden  dart  forward,  and,  puttiug  her  arm 
around  Mr  Pickwick's  neck,  saluted  him  affectionately  on  the  left 
cheek  ;  and  before  Mr.  Pickwick  distinctly  knew  what  was  the  matter, 
Le  was  surrounded  by  the  whole  body,  and  kissed  by  every  one  of  them. 

It  was  a  pleasant  thing  to  see  51  r.  Pickwick  in  tlie  centre  of  iho 
group,  row  pulled  tliis  way,  and  then  that,  and  first  kissed  on  the 

24* 


2S3  POSTHUMOUS   PAPER3   G9 

cliin,  and  then  on  the  nose,  and  then  on  the  spectacles,  and  to  hear  the 
peals  of  laughter  which  were  raised  on  every  side  :  but  it  was  a  still 
more  pleasant  thing  to  see  Mr.  Pickwick,  bhnded  shortly  afterward 
with  a  silk  handkerchief,  falling  up  against  the  wall,  and  .scrambling 
into  corners,  and  going  tljrough  all  the  mysteries  of  blind-man's  butt', 
with  the  utmost  relish  for  the  game,  until  at  last  he  caught  one  of  the 
poor  relations  ;  and  then  had  to  evade  the  blind-man  himself,  which 
he  did  with  a  nimbleness  and  agility  that  elicited  the  admiration  and 
applause  of  all  beholders.  The  poor  relations  caught  just  the  people 
whom  they  thought  would  like  it  ;  and  when  the  game  flagged,  got 
caught  themselves.  When  they  were  all  tired  of  blind-man's  buff, 
there  was  a  great  game  at  snap-dragon,  and  when  fingers  enough  were 
burned  with  that,  and  all  the  raisins  gone,  they  sat  down  by  the  huge 
fjre  of  blazing  logs  to  a  substantial  supper,  and  a  mighty  bowl  of  was- 
sail, something  smaller  than  an  ordinary  wash-house  copper,  in  which 
the  hot  apples  were  hissing  and  bubbling  with  a  rich  look,  and  a  jolly 
sound,  that  were  perfectly  irresistible. 

"This,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  looking  round  him,  "this  is,  indeed, 
comfort." 

*'  Our  invariable  custom,"  replied  Mr.  Wardle.  "  Every  body  sits 
down  with  us  on  Christmas  eve,  as  you  see  them  now — servants  and 
all ;  and  here  we  wait  till  the  clock  strikes  twelve,  to  usher  Christmas 
in,  and  while  away  the  time  with  forfeits  and  old  stories.  Trundle, 
my  boy,  rake  up  the  fire." 

Up  flew  the  bright  sparks  in  myriads  as  the  logs  were  stirred,  and 
the  deep  red  blaze  sent  forth  a  rich  glow,  that  penetrated  into  the  far- 
thest corner  of  the  room,  and  cast  its  cheerful  tint  on  every  face. 

"  Come,"  said  Wardle,  "  a  song — a  Christmas  song.  I'll  give  you 
one  in  default  of  a  better." 

"Bravo,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

*'  Fill  up,"  cried  Wardle.  '*  It  will  be  two  hours  good,  before  you 
see  the  bottom  of  the  bowl  through  the  deep  rich  colour  of  the  wassail ; 
fill  up  all  around,  and  now  for  the  song." 

Thus  saying,  the  merry  old  gentleman,  in  a  good  round  sturdy  voice 
commenced,  without  more  ado, 


A  CHRISTMAS  CAROL. 

I  CAKE  not  for  Spring  on  his  fickle  wing 

Let  the  blossom  and  buds  be  borne  : 

He  woos  ihem  amain  with  his  treacherous  rain, 

And  he  scatters  them  ere  the  morn. 

An  inconstant  elf,  he  knows  not  himself, 

Or  his  own  changing  mind  an  hour. 

He'll  smile  in  your  face,  and  with  wry  grimace, 

He'll  wither  your  youngest  flower. 

Let  the  summer  sun  to  his  bright  home  run, 

He  sball  never  be  sough:  by  me  ; 

When  he's  dimmed  by  a  cloud  I  can  laugh  aloud. 

And  care  not  how  sulky  he  be  ;       j 

For  his  darling  child  is  the  madness  wild 

That  sports  in  fierce  fever's  train  ; 

And  when  love  is  too  strong,  it  don't  last  long. 

As  many  have  found  to  their  pain. 


THE    PICKWICK    CLUB.  2WO 

A  mild  harvest  night,  by  the  tranquil  light 

Of  the  modest, and  gentle  moon, 

Has  a  far  sweeter  sheen  for  me,  I  ween, 

Than  the  broad  and  unWushing  noon. 

But  every  leaf  awakens  my  grief. 

As  it  lieth  beneath  the  tree  ; 

So  let  Autumn  air  be  never  so  fair, 

It  by  no  means  agrees  with  me. 

But  my  song  I  troll  out,  for  Christmas  stout, 

The  hearty,  the  true,  and  the  bold. 

A  bumper  I  drain,  and  with  might  and  main 

Give  three  cheers  for  this  Christmas  old. 

We'll  usher  him  in  with  a  merr>'  din 

That  shall  gladden  his  joyous  heart, 

And  we'll  keep  him  up  while  there's  bite  or  sup, 

And  in  fellowship  good  we'll  part. 

In  his  fine  honest  pride,  he  scorns  to  hide 

One  jot  of  his  hard-weather  scars  : 

They're  no  disgrace,  for  there's  much  the  same  trace 

On  the  cheeks  of  our  bravest  tars. 

Then  again  I  sing  till  the  roof  doth  ring, 

And  it  echoes  from  wall  to  wall — 

To  the  stout  old  wight,  far  welcome  to-night, 

As- the  King  of  the  Seasons  all ! 

This  song  was  tumultuously  applauded,  for  friends  and  dependants 
make  a  capital  audience  ;  and  the  poor  relations  especially  were  in  per- 
fect ecstacies  of  rapture.  Again  was  the  fire  replenished,  and  again 
went  the  wassail  round. 

*'  How  it  snow^ !''  said  one  of  the  men,  in  a  low  tone. 

•'Snows,  does  iti"  said  Wardle. 

*'  Rough,  cold  night,  sir,"  replied  the  man  :  "  and  there's  a  wind  got 
up,  that  drifts  it  across  the  fields,  in  a  thick  white  cloud." 

"What  does  Jem  say!"  inquired  the  old  lady.  "There  ain't  any 
thing  the  matter,  is  there  1" 

•'No,  no,  mother,"  replied  Wardle  ;  "  he  says  there's  a  snow-drift, 
and  a  wind  that's  piercing"  cold.  I  should  know  that,  by  the  way  it 
rumbles  in  the  chimney." 

"Ah!"  said  the  old  lady,  "there  was  just  such  a  wind,  and  just 
sjch  a  fall  of  snow,  a  good  many  years  back,  I  recollect — ^just  five 
years  before  your  poor  father  died.  It  was  a  Christmas  eve,  too  ;  and 
I  remember  that  on  that  very  night  he  told  us  the  story  about  the  gob- 
lins that  carried  away  old  Gabriel  Grub." 

"The  story  about  what  ?"  said  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Oh,  nothing-— nothing,''  replied  Wardle.  "  A'oout  an  old  sexton, 
that  the  good  people  down  here  suppose  to  have  been  carried  away  by 


^blii 


•'  Suppose  !"  ejaculated  the  old  lady.  "  Is  there  any  body  liardy 
enough  to  disbelieve  it !  Suppose  !  Haven't  you  heard  ever  since 
you  were  a  child,  that  he  was  carried  away  by  the  goblins,  and  don't 
you  know  he  was  !" 

•'Very  well,  mother,  he  was,  if  you  like,''  said  Wardle,  laughing. 
*«  He  was  carried  away  by  goblins,  Pickwick  ;  and  there's  an  end  cf 
the  matter." 


3)54  P08THUM0C8  PAPERS  OF  THE  PICKWICK  CLTJC. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  not  an  end  of  it,  I  assure  you ;  for 
I  must  hear  how,  and  why,  and  all  about  it." 

Wardlc  smiled,  as  every  head  was  bent  forward  to  hear  ;  and  filling 
out  the  wassail  with  no  stinted  hand,  nodded  a  health  to  Mr.  Pickwick, 
and  began  as  follows  :  — 

But  blcos  our  editorial  heart,  wliat  a  long  chapter  w^e  have  been  be- 
trayed into  !  We  had  quite  forgotten  all  such  petty  restrictions  as 
chapters,  we  solemnly  declare.  So  here  goes  to  give  the  goblin  a  fair 
start  in  a  new  one.  A  clear  stage  and  no  favour  for  the  goblins,  ladie« 
and  gentlemen,  if  you  please. 

END  OF  VOL.  I. 


! 


